Oh Maple, I Think I'm Lost
by The Wistful Bloom
Summary: Matthew really couldn't pay attention in his French history lesson, but, that said: Did a talking rabbit really make a good enough excuse to be absent? Was this the Wonderland he had often day-dreamed about? "Oh maple, will papa be angry."
1. Flower Beds

**cries i decided to go and edit this too **

**bc i made amateurish grammatical mistakes and i'm slightly embarrassed okay thanks**

* * *

"The French Revolution from 1789–1799 was a period of radical social and political upheaval in French- and European- history,"

The Canadian, who should have been listening to his father, was instead straddled over a tree branch, swinging his legs idly whilst his hands cupped his chin.

"Matthieu, _mon cher, _are you listening?"

"Huh?"

The Frenchman gave his son a stern look. The Canadian blinked his eyes, face blank, before amending coyly: "_Oui, _I am."

Francis sighed and began reading again, although slower and with a hint of annoyance. Matthew, not one to care for history- especially on such a day- immediately returned to his day-dreaming, petting Kumajiro softly as he began to swing his legs.

"-The absolute monarchy that had ruled France for centuries collapsed in three years."

The man made sure to watch his son as he read, clearing his throat every time Matthew would close his eyes.

"French society underwent an epic transformation as feudal, aristocratic and religious privileges evaporated under a sustained assault from liberal political groups and the masses on the streets."

The boy had actually began to snore lightly.

"_Matthieu_, would you kindly pay attention to your lesson on the revolution?"

"But papa, there aren't any pictures. How am I supposed to pay attention to a book without pictures?" The boy spoke with his usual soft tone.

"_Mon dieu!_ There are a great number of books, _without any pictures, _that you cannot take your eyes from!"

"Well, In _my _world, books would be pictures, and nothing but." Matthew sighed at the thought, legs still swinging.

"Oh, I give up." Francis chuckled. "You will learn nothing and I will be the one in trouble." As much as this was true, it seemed to be said in jest. Little harm would come to Francis, except perhaps a small bout of food poisoning.

The Canadian boy gave a very muffled 'thank you papa', and he cautiously made his way down from his favourite branch.

"Go and play, Matthieu," his father waved him off, still smiling. He may not have been particularly academic, but the boy was certainly something of a metaphorical light source, especially in a vaguely dim world.

The boy tottered off into the flowers, Kumajiro not too far behind, and the Frenchman shook his head gently- his boy was a rather peculiar thing- and sat at the base of the tree.

In spite of his previous intentions, and his personal interest in the very things Matthew didn't seem to care for, he decided it best to catch forty winks while he still could.

* * *

"Oh, Kumajira. I wish papa would understand." Matthew sighed as he lay on his back, picking a daisy and twirling it up above; as if it was floating in the sky.

The bear growled, insulted by Matthew's mistake. He was called Kumajiro, and even if he couldn't remember the boy's name either- he was, after all, _a bear_.

"Do you want to know what I was day-dreaming about?" The Canadian asked, letting out a little giggle. He picked another daisy from the grass and twirled it in his fingers, watching the bear as his eyes grew a half-tone wider. and basking in the glower of sunlight.

"Cats and rabbits,  
Would reside in fancy little houses,  
And be dressed in shoes,  
and hats and trousers,  
In a world of my own."

The Canadian picked a daisy head from the mass of flowers in the field, placing it upside down on the bear's head to illustrate his words. _Hats and trousers indeed,_ the bear seemed to giggled softly at Kumajiro's bewildered expression before continuing.

"All the flowers,  
Would have very extra special powers,  
They would sit and talk to me for hours,  
When I'm lonely,  
In a world of my own."

He closed his eyes again, far away from anything else, away from home and history lessons and the reluctant walk back to his father he would soon be taking.

"There'd be new birds,  
Lots of nice and friendly,  
How-do'ya do birds,  
Everyone would have a dozen blue birds,  
Within that world of my own."

Kumajiro made another noise, as if he had been insulted, such nonsense his ears couldn't stand a second longer. Matthew let his eyes sift open to watch him plod back through the grass before he closed them again, still singing quietly.

"I could listen to a babbling brook,  
And hear a song that I could understand,  
I keep wishing it could be that way:  
Because my world would be a wonderland."

A home from home, even if existent only in his mind, was Matthew's escape. Everything he liked, books with pictures, pretty things, and not a single thing to spoil it. Kumajiro, some distance ahead, growled loudly, making Matthew shoot up in surprise.

"Kumajiri, must you make such noise? It's only a rabbit in a waistcoat."

Matthew blinked, scrubbed his eyes from underneath his glasses, and then looked again. He had, whether fortunately or very unfortunately, not been deceived by his own eyes. He couldn't move for a few moments.

"Gosh."


	2. Down The Rabbit Hole

**okay no more a/n i don't think unless absolutely necessary as this is old and an edit as of now okay~~~**

* * *

"Oh my fur and whiskers! I'm late, I'm late, I'm late!" The rabbit exclaimed hurriedly, having difficulty putting on his gloves. Matthew, a fair distance away, had let his mouth fall obscenely wide. Perhaps he was dreaming. Watching the rabbit almost hurry off into the distance, Matthew quickly got to his feet, giving chase.

"Please! Sir! Mr. Rabbit!"

But the rabbit continued to run along the path, his black waistcoat finished off with a golden trim and his fur a soft shade that reached white. "Sir! Mr. Rabbit!" He called, waving a hand. But as he was to most people, Matthew understood, he was obviously rather invisible to the fumbling rabbit. The rabbit took one look at his pocket watch and scampered on even faster, shouting almost loud enough to reach Francis- still sleeping underneath the tree.

"I'm late, I'm late, for a very important date!  
No time to say hello, goodbye!  
I'm late, I'm late, I'm late!"

The boy chased after the rabbit, his shorts riding up his legs as he ran and his glasses kept on slipping, but Matthew was going to chase this rabbit all the way to China or some other distant place if he had to. "Mr. Rabbit!"

_It must be something awfully important_, he thought, spindly legs failing him fast. If only his papa had taught him less about history and more about sports. The rabbit seemed to actually acknowledge him and turned, bounding madly, pointing a gloved hand to his pocket watch.

"No, no, no, no, no, no, no,  
I'm overdue. I'm really in a stew.  
No time to say goodbye, hello!  
I'm late, I'm late, I'm late!"

With that the rabbit all but threw himself into a rabbit hole at the base of a tree, the Canadian putting his hands to his knees and taking shallow breaths. Kumajiro pawed at the hole incessantly, a soft growl reaching Matthews' ears, the boy stared into the pitch black below. He turned to Kumajiro, who had crawled into the small space, calling his owner with a small growl. Reluctantly, Matthew followed.

"You know, Kumaji, we really shouldn't be doing this, after all- we haven't been invited." They came to a stop, peering over the edge. Matthew could see nothing at all, and his stomach twisted at the thought of not knowing how far they could fall.

The bear growled, clearly sensing something, and the Canadian peered further, now on his knees.

He tried to make sense of something, to see something or anything whatsoever, even if it was in vain. "And curiosity often leads to troub-" His glasses slipped, ready to drop, and in an attempt to push them back his other hand slipped from the ledge. His arms windmilled, mouth open wide as he began to descend into the unknown darkness. He could still see Kumajiro on the ledge above him.

"Goodbye, Kumajiro, Goodbye!"He called softly. The bear spared him a curious glance and waved his paw in response, before he zipped out of Matthew's line of sight.

"Oh, maple!" He squeaked. And then, as if he was not falling at all, Matthew seemed to float downwards, as slowly and easily as one descends a set of stairs.

"What if I should fall right through the centre of the earth... and come out the other side, where people walk upside down! Oh, maple! What will papa say if I'm late for dinner?" Worrying, Matthew found, was an even more unhealthy and silly habit when falling down an enormous rabbit hole. He chanced a look downwards, to find that his feet were almost at the floor. He wobbled as he landed, head spinning and cloudy, and then he spotted the white rabbit again and cried out.

"Oh, mister Rabbit! Wait! Please!"

He chased after him, through what could only be maze upon maze of corridor, this way and that, the rabbit never closer nor further away. It seemed absolutely endless. He came to a stop around the next corner, the rabbit now- almost magically- vanished from the spot. There was a large door in front of Matthew, and when he glanced backwards he saw only a length of straight corridor. He hadn't passed any corners at all. "Peculiar," he whispered. The door, as he was certain that he had no way of flying back up the rabbit hole with only the use of himself, was his only option. Cautiously, fingers loose around the handle, he pulled it open.

"Another door?" Matthew frowned, pulling the next door open, only to reveal another.

And another. And another. And another. More and more, each smaller than the last, until he was crouching and begging to become distressed.

Finally, his hand shot out for another handle, only to grasp at nothing at all. He was through. Matthew peered into the doorway, to see another room with furniture he couldn't distinguish from this angle, and squeezed himself through the small doorway.

The rabbit was skittering across the room, now only the size of Matthew's hand, and he ran all the way to a door at the other side of the room, slamming it behind him.

Matthew approached, sitting down with his legs tucked underneath himself. He couldn't quite understand how the rabbit had shrunk to such a height, and after a small hesitation, he gave the doorknob a sharp turn. He might has well have expected it not to open. One thing he was not expecting, however, was for the handle to morph into a face and shout rather loudly:

"Aii-Yah!"

"Oh!"

The boy fell backwards, his hands catching himself before his head could hit the wall. "I'm terribly sorry!" He stuttered his apology to the doorknob, staring with avid curiosity.

"Oh, that's quite alright, aru. You gave me quite a turn is all." The Canadian began to explain how exactly he had come to such a peculiar predicament when the doorknob chuckled and interrupted his story. "Quite good, eh? Doorknob,_ turn_." The doorknob chuckled to himself again and Matthew heaved a great sigh.

"Please, sir."

"Well," The doorknob smiled at him, the keyhole acting as a mouth. "One good turn deserves another." He chuckled again at his joke, and then, seeing Matthew quite distraught, asked, "Can I help you, aru?"

Matthew wrung his hands.

"You see, I was following a white rabbit, so if you don't mind..."


	3. Off To Sea

Matthew finished his story, glumly pointing to the door he was conversing with. "Oh! He came through here," The doorknob opened his mouth (or rather his keyhole) wide enough for the blonde boy to see the rabbit bound over the next grassy knoll and out of sight. The Canadian was overjoyed to see the rabbit again. He pulled his face away from the door with a smile plastered over his delicate features. "Ooh! There he is! I must get through!" He squeaked in excitement, the doorknob seemed to pull a face: as if straining his ears to hear him better, but answered with a wise smile.

"I'm sorry, aru. But you can't go through." He paused, and then said, as if Matthew was simple, "you're too big."

When the boy gave him an exasperated- if curious- look and tilt of the head he added to his first comment: "Simply impassible."

"You mean impossible?" Matthew queried.

"No, impassible. Nothing's impossible."

When Matthew still seemed to question the doorknob's words it suggested "Why don't you try the bottle on the table, aru?" Its eyes wandered to a point over Matthew's shoulder.

"Table?" There had been little other than simply room when he had first walked in. He turned around and, to his surprise, saw a table and chairs behind him. He ambled over, picking up the bottle in the center of the table, and inspected it. There was a small label, which read, in scripted print, 'Drink Me'.

"Read the directions, and directly you'll be directed in the right direction." The doorknob told him, its voice somewhere below him.

The boy didn't seem convinced, he swirled the contents carefully, musing aloud to himself as he did so: "I'd better be careful. For if one drinks much from a bottle marked 'poison', it's almost certain to disagree with one, sooner or later."

The doorknob screwed its face up, wrinkling its nose. "I beg your pardon, aru?"

"I was just giving myself some good advice."

With that he uncorked the small bottle and brought it to his lips, sipping it gently. "Oh my! It tastes like..." He paused, shortening considerably while he smacked his lips to check the taste. "Maple syrup!" His eyes grew wide, the bottle now needing two hands to hold. "My!" He took another sip, shrinking again. "And pancakes!" He took another sip, quite ready to drink the lot.

He then shrunk so much that he couldn't even hug the bottle it was that big. He let it go, taking in his new, minuscule proportions.

"Oh maple! What did I do?" He asked, turning to the doorknob that seemed to tower above him now. It laughed again, the sound grating on his ears slightly.

"You almost went out like a candle!"

Matthew looked from the door to himself and stared at the doorknob, pushing his glasses up his nose out of habit. "Look!" He smiled in delight. "I'm exactly the right size!" He then made for the door, the doorknob's grating laughter bringing him to a quick halt.

"I forgot to tell you, aru."

The blonde boy glanced upwards, trying not to frown.

"I'm locked."

The doorknob chortled, making the boy's expression falter.

He groaned.

"But, you have the key of course."

"What key?" Matthew was begging to dislike these silly games. He'd had quite enough.

The doorknob was very close to another string of grating chuckles, but he didn't do as such. "Now, don't tell me you've left it up there, aru." He chortled, yet there was a tone of scolding to his voice.

The boy looked up at the table to see a gold key visible through the glass, although he was certain it was nowhere to be seen when he had taken the drink.

"And what do you suppose I do now?" He asked, folding his arms. He had no plausible way of getting back to the key, at least, not at this wretched height.

"Try the box, naturally."

The blonde checked behind him to see a small box in front of the table, sitting there for him on the floor. Gold-leaf had been welded into patterns, embellished into the wood neatly. He opened it to find an assortment of colourful sweets, all with the iced instruction of 'eat me' on them. He took one, not sure if he could trust any more instructions after the mess that 'Drink Me' had gotten him into, but despite himself, he took a bite.

"But goodness knows what this will do-oo!" His 'o' was stretched in surprise as he shot up like a rocket, head hitting the ceiling. He stooped, catching his breath. The doorknob muttered something inaudible, so quiet that the Canadian had to bend down and ask: "Did you say something?"

The doorknob smiled. "I said: 'a little of that went a long way'!" And then it burst into raucous laughter. Matthew frowned.

"Well, I don't find this so amusing. How can I even imagine getting home _now_?" He sniffled pathetically before tears leaked down his face, splashing loudly on the floor of the room.

"Come now, aru. Crying won't help!"

"I-I- Know b-but I j-just can't h-help it!"

He burst into hysterics after this, the violent splashes creating a sea-like crashing and ebbing of waves against the walls.

"Aii-Yah! That won't do!" The open mouth of the doorknob quickly took in a large amount of water, which it attempted to hack up blindly. "Look, aru!_ The bottle!_ _The bottle_!"

The Canadian ceased his sobs, tears still rolling off of his milky skin and reddened cheeks, the bottle labelled 'Drink Me' bobbing along the haze of tears.

Matthew picked it up, his socks well and truly soaked from all of the tears he didn't know he was capable of.

"Oh w-well. Here goes n-nothing." Trying to stop his hiccuping motions, lest he choke on the liquid, he quickly splashed the last of the bottle down his throat.

With a loud pop he was much too small, landing in the dropped bottle as it floated along the waves.

The violent waves crashed, sea-foam spraying the outside of the bottle as it did so. The bottle carried Matthew along, and then through the wide mouth of the doorknob.

"I do wish I hadn't cried so much." He sniffled, sitting in the bottom of the bottle dejectedly.

And, had he not just conversed with a doorknob, seen a talking rabbit, and shrunk to (_at the very least)_ a tenth of his usual size: he wouldn't have believed his short-sighted, bespectacled eyes.

_A singing seagull._


	4. Apparently All Washed Up

"Oh, the sailor's life is the life for me  
How I love to sail on the bounding sea,  
And I never never never do a thing about the weather,  
For the weather never ever does a thing for me."

Matthew blinked softly, then adjusted his glasses, as if it would make it disappear. For what he saw was a seagull. Not your average seagull, not a terrible, ugly squawking thing; but a singing seagull with a little hat and clean-looking feathers.

He rubbed at his eyes again, even taking off his glasses and cleaning them on his polo shirt.

It was, much like the waves that rocked the little 'Drink Me' bottle closer to it, still there.

"How very odd," Matthew whispered, watching the seagull overhead. He could see a small aquamarine shaded hat sitting on its head, which was laced around the edge with a navy-blue and white trimming that tailed off into two loose drapes of the fabric at the back.

"Oh Oh_,  
_A sailor's life is a life for me,  
Tiddle um prrt, prrt,  
Tiddle dum dum dee!  
And I never n-"

It spotted Matthew, saluting him with a wing. "Ahoy! Another nautical expression! Land ho, by Jove!"

Matthew stood up in the bottle, legs shaky as the waves continued to rock him forwards.

"Three points to starboard. Follow me, me hearties! Have you at port no time at all now!" The seagull let out a chirp of a laugh.

"Mr. Seagull!" He squeaked, waving one hand furiously as to attract the attention of the Seagull. No such luck.

The seagull's beak was spread into a wide grin, and as he sung he swung his wings in the air: this way and that.

"Johoho,  
And a bottle of sea,  
We love each time-"

"Oh please! Please would you help me?" Matthew sighed, head bowed down in defeat. "Nobody ever bothers to listen to me. It's just not fair." He felt as though he could be on the verge of tears again, but considering the sea he had created the first time, he thought against any more waterworks.

As his small bottle continued to crash among the waves, and he could see the seagull on a small island just ahead. An array of sea creatures looked to be running in a circle on the island, and in the center of them all was the seagull, standing on a rock.

It pointed to a starfish, jumping up and down excitedly: "Hey! No pushing!" He turned to another creature and cried whilst continuing to jump: "Eric, stop kicking that mackerel!"

The Canadian pressed his hands against the glass, able to hear more singing as he neared the little island.

"Forward, backward, inward, outward, come and join the chase!  
Nothing could be drier than a jolly caucus-race.  
Backward, forward, outward, inward, bottom to the top,  
never a beginning there can never be a stop."

Matthew watched as the once dry animals were swept with the waves once again, dripping and sodden as they were before. Again and again, yet they never stopped. If he was engaged in something as pointless as this, Matthew was sure he'd be quite fed up in no time.

The seagull, however, looked dry as a bone, the waves unable to snatch at him from the safety of the rock. As the foam crashed dangerously close he squawked loudly and jumped, flapping his wings in alarm.

"Skipping, hopping, tripping, fancy free and gay,  
I started it tomorrow and will finish yesterday.  
Round and round and round we go, and dance for evermore,  
once we were behind but now we find we are be-forward."

His bottle finally made it to shore, and he clambered out, tripping up over himself so he ended up flat on the sand. He gave a pained 'oof!' as he was found underneath the feet of a turn. It stepped on him and over him, cawing as it went.

"Backward, inward, outward, come and join the chase!  
Nothing could be drier than a jolly caucus-race.  
For backward-"

The seagull stopped his singing as he noticed Matthew being trodden on, he squawked loudly from his rock: "I say! You'll never get dry that way!"

Matthew looked from his own sodden attire to the seagull, then asking with an incredulous look plastered on his face, "Get dry?"

"Have to run with the others. First rule of a caucus-race, you know!" He giggled, rather like a schoolboy, before he pointed to another creature and scolded it for disobeying the rules.

Matthew continued to stare at the seagull, then to the crashing waves surrounding the tiny island. He picked himself up and took a place behind a starfish. As loud as he could he called out to the obnoxious bird."But, the waves, how am I supposed to-" The seagull clapped his wings together, as if they were hands, and beamed at Matthew, completely oblivious to the fact that the boy had just spoken.

"Much better! We'll have you dry in no time 'm boy."

The Canadian frowned. "Nobody could get dry this way!"

From his rock the seagull tutted, as if Matthew was all in all very silly. He looked at Matthew and said rather simply, "_nonsense_, I'm as dry as a bone already!"

The Canadian made to argue his point when a wave came crashing over the sand, his efforts to speak becoming null against the water. He picked himself up from the sand once again, pushing his glasses up in forced habit, to see the white rabbit had washed up next to an umbrella.

"All right chaps, look lively!" The seagull continued his 'encouraging' shouts to the sea-creatures below him, but Matthew wasn't too interested by that.

"The white rabbit! Mr. Rabbit! Oh!" He dusted off his sodden polo shirt and looked up. The white rabbit took one look at his ornate gold pocket watch and his eyes grew wide.

"Oh, my goodness! I'm late, I'm late, I'm late!"

The rabbit scampered off again, the blonde's attempt of catching up with him cut short when he landed once again face-first into the sand.

"Oh, bother."


	5. Dee And Dum

Matthew didn't know how far he had walked. He didn't know where he was, or what the time was. But he knew one thing for certain:

He'd lost sight of the white rabbit once again.

He let out a shallow sigh of relief when he came to a clearing, a rather neat space in which the rocks looked comfy and the grass looked green. It was only as he came to the edge of the trees he was entangled in which he saw the most peculiar figures. Curiosity stronger than the need to sit, (dear lord, did his legs ache) he ambled over to the two figures.

They stood side by side, almost identical, if one didn't consider that whilst one was gleeful the other seemed to scowl into the distance. The Canadian squinted at the neat embroidered names on their collars, pushing his glasses up as he did so.

"Lovi-dee, and Feli-dum..."

He stood back, considering them and their ability to remain very still. He thought, although he knew neither what was true or false in this world, that he could hear them breathing; but both neither moved nor blinked.

The one with the scowl suddenly turned to Matthew. "If you think we're waxworks, you ought to pay." He sneered, alerting the other twin to the Canadian's presence.

"Contrariwise, if you think we're alive it'd be nice if you talked to us."

The Canadian didn't know how to take in the sight of the two twins, along with their Italian accents and completely opposite personalities. They both ended their 'greeting' with: "That's logic."

"W-Well, it was nice meeting you. Erm... Goodbye." He stuttered under their gaze when Lovi-dee spoke again.

"You're beginning backwards, you stupid s-" His curse was cut short when his brother clasped a hand over his mouth.

"Ve~! What fratello means is: 'The first thing you should say is'."

"How do you do and shake hands,

shake hands, shake hands.

How do you do and shake hands

state your name and business."

The bubbly twin made a show of shaking his brother's hand mercilessly until he slapped it away, which only made him hug the scowling Italian and blubber into his shoulder. "Don't be upset, fratello! I didn't mean to-"

The scowling twin simply ignored his brother and said directly to Matthew, "That's manners."

"Well, my name is Matthew, and I'm following a white rabbit. So, if you don't mind-"

"But!" Feli-dum cried out, "you've only just met us!"

"I'm awfully sorry." The blonde began, backing away softly, "But I'm in a terrible hurry."

"Do you like to play hide and seek?" Feli-dum asked, in doing so covering his scowling brother's eyes with his hands and then taking them away with a grin on his face.

Lovi-dee reached for his brother's jacket and pulled off one of his blue buttons. "Or: 'Button Button, Who's Got The Button'?" He aimed it in a way that when he threw it it bounced off of Feli-dum's nose.

The blonde tried his best not to giggle and in doing so stopped in his attempt to walk off. "Merci, monsieurs. But I really must-"

Feli-dum made an excited noise, like remembering something, and then tried swiping a few playful punches at Lovi-dee. "If you stay long enough we might have a battle!" The older twin frowned, kicking his brother's legs from underneath him.

"As much as I'd like to see that, I really must be going." Matthew didn't know what he ought to do when faced with people who had no concept of the word 'no'. Perhaps, instead of sports, which he so wished to know more about when first chasing the rabbit, his papa could have taught him this.

Both twins forgot their squabbling to ask him, "Why must you go?"

Matthew made a noise, both annoyed and mildly uncomfortable, and he shrugged, "Well, I wandered here simply in passing and-"

"Why?" They asked again.

Their synchronization amused and perplexed him all at once. "B-Because I'm following a white rabbit and-"

Both repeated their question.

"Why?"

The blonde felt a twinge of anger, shouting as loudly as he could manage. "Because I am curious!"

Lovi-dee looked at his brother and asked. "Did he just say something?"

"I certainly didn't hear anything." Feli-Dum assured him.

"Have you lost your voice?" He asked, turning to the blonde boy.

He sighed in defeat and said simply. "I am curious as to where the where the white rabbit is going."

"Oh." They muttered together.

Feli-dum tutted at his brother, a solemn look on his face. His eyes, Matthew had noticed, had not opened once in their encounter. "The oysters were curious too, weren't they fratello..."

"And you know what happened to those stupid bas-" Once again Feli-dum's hand was quick to stifle his brothers words.

"Ve~ Fratello!" He turned to Matthew, "he means: 'What poor little oysters'."

The blonde looked up from his feet, eyes hinting at curiosity. "And what... _did_ happen? To the oysters?"

Lovi-dee removed his brother's hand, shaking his head and gazing off into the distance. He folded his arms "Oh, you wouldn't be interested. You're in too much of a hurry, you see. Not worth the time."

"Oh but I am interested!" Matthew pleaded.

Both of them wouldn't glance his way, both staring off in opposite directions, like they were fed up of him. He sighed.

"I could, perhaps, spare a minute or so."

Lovi-dee and Feli-dum shared a sly glance, though Matthew noted only one was smiling. "Did you hear that, fratello? A minute or so."

The frowning brother rolled his eyes and muttered loud enough for everyone to hear, "Oh, wonderful."

They both stood as they were when Matthew first stumbled upon them.

Feli-dum smiled brightly and addressed Matthew directly.

"The Walrus And The Carpenter."

He nudged the grumbling Lovi-dee gently and he sighed mournfully, giving a half-hearted wave of his hand.

"Also known as the story of 'The Curious Oysters'."


	6. Hello At Last

They both spoke together, each with his own expression. Their words made the Canadian paint a very vivid picture in his mind.

"The sun was shining on the sea, shining with all his might,

he did his very best to make the billows smooth and bright.

And this was odd, because it was the middle of the night."

* * *

___The rich man, who in many ways could be called a Walrus, strode across the beach, his coat a rich shade of midnight blue. The carpenter struggled to keep up with him, his hair spiked in an unruly manner, axe over his shoulder._

"The Walrus and the Carpenter were walking close at hand.  
The beach was white from side to side but much too full of sand."

___The Carpenter had fallen over, some resolution compared to his stumbling- blame the axe- and he let the grains of sand flow through his fingers. He then looked up at the rich 'walrus' before him._

_"____Mister Walrus" _said the Carpenter:___ "My brain begins to perk." _

_"__We'll sweep this clear in half a year, if you don't mind the work." _

_"__Work?!" The 'walrus' almost choked on his words. As if he had never heard of a more ridiculous proposition. He adjusted his box-like hat (the same shade as his coat) and looked down upon the Carpenter._

_"__The time has come..."_

The Walrus said.

_"__To talk of other things." _

___He scrutinised the appearance of the carpenter, almost glaring through the thick lenses of his glasses._

_"__Of shoes and ships and sealing wax, and cabbages and kings.  
And why the sea is boiling hot, and whether pigs have wings.  
Callooh, callay, no work today! We're cabbages and kings!" _

_"__Gee, I'm awfully hungry Berwald. I'd kill for some oysters!" The Danish Carpenter pouted, almost childishly, and looked up like a puppy at the man before him. _

___"I-I guess, __Mathias. But if we don't find any, don't turn childish."_

"_M-Me? C-Childish?" Mathias burst into Raucous laughter, slapping his hand on the sand as he did so. _

_"Exactly my point."_

_Berwald glared straight at him, stifling his laughter instantly._

* * *

"Luckily, the Danish Carpenter knew of an oyster bed close by." Feli-dum informed the Canadian, Lovi-dee simply glared and stated.

"Wasn't lucky for those oysters, was it though? What a stupid fuc-"

"Lovi! You'll ruin the story for... Where has he gone?"

"I'm right here." The blonde waved aimlessly, both brothers stared straight through him.

"Hello?" They asked together, peering at the trees around them.

"Oh, maple! Can nobody remember that I'm here?"

"Perhaps he was a ghost, fratello." The smiling twin said, searching with his bronze eyes between the trees. Matthew sighed, picking himself up from the rock he was seated upon.

"But- I'm..." He sighed, turning away from them. "Never mind."

* * *

Matthew was completely and utterly fuming, he had had enough of this 'Wonderland', it wasn't wondrous at all in his opinion. Especially so the pain in his legs. He'd walked for ages and ages, and he'd already bruised his knee. He had, most definitely, had enough.

"Feliks?!"

Matthew looked up, eyes a little unaccustomed to seeing nothing but pathway for a good while. And then he noticed the shouting animal, tapping its foot impatiently.

"The rabbit!"

Said rabbit was outside (what Matthew guessed was) his house. "Oh! Mr. Rabbit!" He waved and increased his pace, his legs spindly and useless beneath him.

"Feliks?!" The rabbit huffed. "Drat that boy! Where did he put 'em?" The rabbit checked his pocket watch and his eyes grew wide. "By Roma Antigua! I'll be late!" He hopped madly on the spot, giving the occasional mutter from under his breath.

"Mr. Rabbit!" Matthew was rather happy to have finally caught up with tim. The rabbit however, didn't look as pleased to see the Canadian.

"Feliks! Where have you been? I'm awfully late!" He then stopped and looked the Canadian up and down. "By Rome! You're not wearing girls' clothes for once! Are you quite well?"

Matthew looked horrified.

He began to explain the obvious mistake. "But sir, you see, I'm not Fel-"

"Shush! Go and get my gloves, Feliks!" He pushed Matthew past his gate and up his steps, stopping at the door. "And for Rome's sake hurry up! I'm late!" With that he pushed him through the door. The blonde glanced around the small house, and tentatively took the stairs, muttering as he went.

"Now, If I was a rabbit, where would I keep my gloves?"

He checked the first room at the top of the stairs, twisting the doorknob and peering inside. He found it to be the rabbit's bedroom and promptly went to the dresser, seeing a familiar box perched on the top. Inside it were the familiar iced sweets, all with the instruction of 'eat me'. "Oh, if I must." He giggled, placing it inside his mouth. He placed a finger to his lips, mind back to the gloves, and asked himself.

"Now, where could they b-ee!"

His last 'e' became terribly high pitched as he rocketed upwards, hands bursting out through the windows and feet straight through the walls.

"Come on, Feliks!" The rabbit tutted at his watch before he looked at the house, his eyes wide. "Oh! A monster! Help! Help!"

"Oh, drat." The Canadian cursed under his breath.

The rabbit, flustering and shouting, saw another creature begin to waddle down the path. He hopped up and down excitedly and gave an exclaim of: "Seagull! Monster! In my house!"

"Seagull?" Matthew asked to absolutely nothing in particular. Nothing in particular was lousy at answering, but Matthew didn't really care.

The Seagull was pulled towards the ruined house by the rabbit, grinning as though he really couldn't hear him. "What is it old chap?" He chuckled and stopped at the gate, feet planted firmly to stop the rabbit pushing him any further. The rabbit huffed and spoke again.

"_A monster_, Mr. Seagull."

He pushed him a step forwards.

"_In my house_, Mr. Seagull."

He pushed him right up to the porch, huffing and clearly rather distressed. The Seagull took one look at Matthew's plimsolls and hurriedly squawked, wings flapping as the rabbit attempted to push him at the foot (although to no avail).

"Oh! My poor roof and rafters!" The rabbit trembled, grabbing onto the seagull's leg.

"By Jove... That _is_ a big monster..."

The rabbit held out a paw and pointed at the Canadians' face, visible through the open windows.

"W-W-Well do s-s-something!"

The seagull took one look at Matthew before turning to the shaking rabbit. "You see, I have the simplest of solutions!" He exclaimed with a flap of his wings, as if there was not a young (and rather large) boy sticking out of the rabbit's house.

The rabbit just stared, eyes wide and full of anxiety.

The Canadian sighed a 'thank goodness' and in an attempt to push his glasses up his nose, ended up whacking his hand on the plasterboard. "Oh!" He shook his hand, wincing, and looked again at the rabbit and the seagull.

"Well pull him out of the chimney!"

"W-Well get o-on with i-it then. Pull the damn thing out!" The rabbit stammered, hanging onto every exclamation the seagull chirped.

"M-Me?" He gave a guffaw and twiddled his nautically shaded hat in his hands. "Don't be ridiculous! What we need is... is..." He looked up and down the path, for something it seemed- for anything- that could help.

"A lizard with a ladder!"

He pointed to a stoic looking man pacing down the road with a ladder over his shoulder. The rabbit ceased his shaking and waved at the lizard.

"Ludwig! Oh, Ludwig!"

The lizard looked around, even to the path behind him, and then pointed to himself. "Me?"

The rabbit swung the gate open wide and ran up to Ludwig, dragging him into his garden. "What we need is a lazard with a lidder!" He flustered, shaking his head. "Oh, a lizard with a ladder!"

The lizard was in fact just a very stony faced man, but his eyes were very lizard like and his skin was pale enough to make one wonder if he was, in fact, of cold-blooded relation. His hair was slicked back and his eyebrows fixated in a scowl. In short, he was someone that Matthew _personally_ thought he wouldn't like to acquainted with.

"Say, Ludwig my friend, have you ever been down a chimney?" The seagull asked.

The 'lizard' answered in a low voice, German accent obvious. "Ja." He shrugged a little, considering, "but I wouldn't say I was qualif-"

"Perfect!"

The seagull rubbed his wings together as if they were hands and he helped Ludwig set up his ladder.

The Canadian boy watched with fascination, as to him they looked like small figurines you would give to a child: but he resisted the urge to pick them up. He didn't want to cause any more trouble than he already had.

The seagull pushed the 'lizard' up his ladder and his beak split into a grin.

"Go on then! Pull the blighter out!"


	7. A Weed Of A Boy

The seagull pushed the 'lizard' further up his ladder, Ludwig trying to throw himself back down to the ground.

"Ludwig, you're passing up a golden opportunity here."

"The opportunity to be killed?" Any hysteria, which really would have been expected, was replaced with nothing more than a stern look.

"No, not at all." The seagull ceased his attempts to push him up and instead pointed to the Canadians' face. "Look, all you have to do is go down the chimney and pull the blighter out! Simple!"

Ludwig looked horrified.

"Mein Gott! Have you seen the size of that thing?"

Matthew gave a 'humph' of disapproval, placing his hands on either side of the house, as though he was placing them on his hips.

"Now, there's a good lad." The seagull pushed Ludwig up his ladder, not allowing room for another word.

He reluctantly scrabbled across the roof and clambered over to the chimney pot.

"Hurry, Ludwig! I'm going to be late!"

The German man stuck his foot into the gloom, then another.

The sudden scuttle had made some dust reach the Canadians' nose, and unable to move away from it he could only breathe it in. As matters stand, he had breathed too much in, and felt a tickle in his nose. He couldn't help himself.

"Ah-Ah-Ah-Choo!"

With his enormous sneeze the 'lizard' was shot right back out of the chimney and out of sight.

"Well, there goes Bill." The seagull sighed.

"Poor Bill." The white rabbit agreed.

The seagull clapped his hands together and exclaimed with a loud squawk: "We'll burn the house down instead!"

The rabbit nodded before realising what he was agreeing to, and he watched in horror as the seagull took a plank from his white picket fence, then another, until he had made something that resembled a fire-pit.

"Oh! No no no no no!"

Matthew agreed with the rabbit, flailing his arms from their window position. "Don't do it!"

_"__Hi ho! Oh, we'll smoke the blighter out.  
__We'll put the beast to rout.  
__Some kindling, a stick or two,  
__This bit of rubbish ought to do."_

The seagull ripped at anything he could find, taking a piece of fence here, a window frame there.

The rabbit seemed frozen in horror. Despite the majority ruling against his idea, the seagull continued to pile on more items, and had actually begun to whistle.

_"__We'll smoke the blighter out, _

_We'll smoke the monster out!"_

He gazed around and flapped his wings childishly, standing back from his pile of wood to take the rabbit's birdhouse next. "No no no!" The white rabbit exclaimed. "Not my beautiful birdhouse!"

_"__Oh, we'll roast the blighter's toes, _

_We'll toast the bounder's nose!__"_

He addressed the white rabbit, pointing across the garden, busy singing and whistling and making an absolute mess as he did so.

_"Go fetch that gate,  
We'll make it clear,  
That monsters aren't welcome here."_

The rabbit nodded and took the gate clean from it's hinges, snapping from his trance once he had handed over the gate, making frivolous attempts to grab it back. Matthew, rather sympathetically, thought that it just wasn't the white rabbit's day.

_"__We'll blow the thing right out, _

_We'll smoke the monster out!"_

The seagull chuckled and looked around, scratched at his head with his feathers and turned to the rabbit.

"You don't have a match, do you?"

"Match?"

Matthew hadn't really had much of an opinion or part in their activities, especially after how their plan to pull him out of the chimney had resulted, but now he was worried that it was getting serious.

Upon habit, unable to contribute to the seagull and his wreckage, the rabbit checked his watch. He cried out and ran out of the garden and down the path. "I'm late, I'm late, I'm late!"

With the rabbit finally gone, Matthew glanced around himself. To his right was a small garden, a patch of vegetables and his stomach rumbled its agreement. He picked up a carrot, and, with little difficulty, managed to reach it to his mouth. He chewed, and- in a pleasant surprise- found himself tiny once again almost instantly.

The seagull, now matchless, had started to rub two ends of a bedpost against each-other: merely creating small, pitiful, sparks. Just as he was about to give up, the Canadian came running out of the front door, barely big enough to climb down the steps without tripping.

"I say, do you have a match?" The Canadian ignored the seagull completely and went in search of the rabbit.

With a soft sigh the seagull just sat there, startled when a voice came from behind him.

"You look, like, a little pale. Y'know?"

"Hmm...? Oh, Feliks!"

Said boy was halfway down the path, dressed in a girls uniform.

Skirt and all.

He stopped where the gate once stood and perched himself on the gate-post, one leg crossed over the other. "Like, oh my gosh. The cutest thing happened to me and Liet today and-"

The seagull sighed, interrupting him. "Are you sure that your outfit is entirely appropriate, Feliks?"

The blonde stopped his babble to look at himself and pick at his skirt. "...I thought it looked cute."

* * *

Once again, Matthew had found himself lost and unaware of both his and the rabbit's location. As he pondered his luck, a butterfly came past him and he giggled as he watched it. "What a curious butterfly."

"You mean a _bread-and-butterfly_."

"Why, of course," He looked more closely at the butterfly, it's wings seemingly pasted with butter and golden brown in colour. "Hang on-" He turned sharply to see who had spoken to him, only to be met face to face with a royal-blue coloured tulip.

"I beg your pardon, but it's simply impossible for a flower to talk!" The Canadian burst into a fit of giggles whilst the flower scowled at him.

"Of course we can, da ze!"

"If there's anyone worth talking too." A Taiwangea sighed, her pink petals loosing a little life as she exhaled.

The Canadian saw another flower, with terribly thick eyebrow-like features glare at him. "Or _about_." Both flowers then giggled to one another and watched the Canadian with absolutely no expression at all.

The Yong-Soolip addressed him once again "So, which garden do you come from, da ze?"

"Well, I don't come from any garden..." The Fenginia and Taiwangea began gossiping again, Matthew only catching a little of their words.

"Suppose he's..."

"...A wild flower?"

"...A _weed_?" They both stared at him disapprovingly.

"Well, what specie, or rather _genus_, are you, da ze?"

Matthew had to think about that.

"Well... I guess, a 'genus, humanus, Matthew'."

The Taiwangea outstretched one of her leaves, throwing the Canadians' blonde hair upwards gently. "Did you ever see such peculiar petals?"

"Come to think of it," The Fenginia began, narrowing his eyes viciously. "Did you ever see a Matthew?"

The rosy petalled Taiwangea was too busy looking at Matthew to notice the blood-shaded Fenginia's ranting. "And will you look at those stems? How scrawny!" She prodded his legs with her leaf, giggling like a schoolgirl.

"But I'm not a flower!" All of the other flowers in the flower-bed gasped along with the three talking blooms. The Yong-Soolip blinked and then spoke to his friends.

"He's nothing but a common mobile vulgaris! Da ze! The horror!"

"Pardon me, but- what?"

"To put it bluntly: A weed." The flower spat the last word, the others tutting and turning away from the Canadian as if he was diseased.

"I am not a weed!"

"Well," The Taiwangea began again, "You wouldn't expect him to admit it."

The flowers began their dreadful gossiping once again, and the Canadian simply turned on his heel and walked off, face bitter and arms folded.

_"If I was my proper size I could pick all of you right out of the ground. That'd teach you."_


	8. Blinded And Confused

**cries i'm getting there and trying to do this all in one sitting (thank god these chapters are short)**

* * *

"You could learn a lot of things from the flowers? Seems to me they could learn a few things about manner- Ow!"

The Canadian shielded his eyes from the glow, a brilliant flash making the letters 'A, E, I, O, U' dance around behind his eyelids. Matthew brought his hand down to look upon the most peculiar thing he had seen yet. (If, so long into his journey, that was even possible).

Sitting above him, stretched out on a mushroom was a caterpillar, alabaster in colour, with intricate golden patterns adorning its body.

The underside of its body had small button-like shapes in the same shade of gold, the regal appearance giving the creature an air of grace.

On each foot it wore a traditional Japanese sandal, its eyes full of intrigue. It was studying a katana, and each time the blade turned in its hands it caught the sun; burning patterns and letters in the back of the Canadians' eyes.

Still twirling the blade, it caught sight of the Canadian. "Who are you?" It spoke slowly and carefully, but never let its gaze linger on him for too long.

"I hardly know, sir. I've changed so many times since this morning you see-"

It narrowed its eyes and interrupted him. "I do not see. Explain."

Matthew couldn't help but gulp, the caterpillar was terribly blunt with his words.

He wrung his hands as the letters were burned into the back of his eyes again, the blade hard to ignore. "Oh, maple! I can't explain myself, sir. Because I'm not myself, you know."

It looked at him again with his filemot eyes. "I do not know."

The boy balled his fists at his sides.

"Well how do you expect me to explain when I don't even know?!"

The caterpillar stopped turning the blade to look at him again, as if he was waiting for a response. "I am talking to you. Answer my question: Who are you?"

The blonde let out a sigh. "Matthew. But- isn't it manners to tell me your name too, sir?"

The caterpillar looked at him again, twirling the blade. " Of course, Matthew-kun. I am Absalom-san."

The boy didn't quite know what the three lettered words meant on the end of their names, but he nodded gently.

"Recite?"

"Hmm...? Oh! Of course, !" Matthew cleared his throat, improving his posture. He mentally warned himself to not make any mistakes.

"How does the little polar bear make pancakes sweet and-"

"That is not spoken correcitically." Again the blade shone in the sun, the Canadian shielded his eyes quickly, not daring to open them until he was sure it was safe.

The caterpillar, shaking its head, recited for him. "How doth the little crocodile improve his shining tail? And pour the waters of the Nile, on every golden scale?"

"I must say, I've never heard it that way." Matthew admitted. It sounded rather peculiar to him, but he didn't dare challenge it. The blade made the same impression in the back of his eyelids and Matthew instantly regretted bringing his arm away from his face.

"I have improved it." Absalom told him, just as slowly and calmly, which seemed- to Matthew- rather lethargic.

Matthew winced at his sharp words. "Well, if you ask me-"

"I did not."

His eyes burned again.

Absalom looked at him for a moment, but not for longer. "I have something important to share with you, Matthew-kun."

The blonde looked uncertainly at the caterpillar, but looked long enough for the caterpillar to smile at him. "Keep your temper."

He smiled as the Canadian balled his fists tighter.

"Is that all?"

"No." He spared another momentary glance for Matthew. "Exacitically _what_, is your problem?"

"It's Exacitica- Exaciticall-" He paused, gathering his bearings. "It is that I would like to be a little larger."

He threw his arms up as the gleam of the blade caught his eyes again.

"Why?"

"Well," He looked at the caterpillar with his soft azuline eyes. "Three inches is such a wretched height, and-"

The caterpillar narrowed his eyes.

"I am _exacitically_ three inches high, and let me tell you: It's a _very_ good height indeed, Matthew-kun."

"W-Well, I'm not used to it, that's all." He fought the urge to shout as the gleam burned his eyes once again.

"Another thing." He began, and Matthew glanced up precariously. "One side will make you grow taller, the other shorter."

"But the other side of- Absalom-san?" He couldn't see hide nor hair of the caterpillar. "The other side of wha-"

"The mushroom, Matthew-kun." With that the presence of the caterpillar seemed to disappear, not a single trace of evidence for Matthew to prove he had just been talking with it. Not that he would have wanted to prove he had been talking with a caterpillar, but it would have been nice to have at least had a goodbye.

He stepped forwards to pick a small part of the mushroom, before stepping around the mushroom and taking a part of the other side. He weighed both pieces in his hands, as if one was going to sprout a mouth tell him which one was which.

"I guess it's worth a try, after all: I hate being three inches ta-ll!"

He shot up so much that he ended up creating a tiny rip in his polo shirt as it scraped across the tree branches. He could see nothing but trees, sprawling as far as the eye can see. _Now_, he thought, _I really do have my head in the clouds._

An incessant tweeting met his ears, and he spotted a small bird in its nest scowling at him.

"And what's your problem, eh?"

The bird's tweeting sounded oddly like a chant of 'awesome' but the Canadian dismissed it. He looked at the other piece of mushroom and, with a look of uncertainty, took a small bite of it.

He smiled softly when he shrunk to what he guessed was about the same size as perhaps the seagull from earlier, and he stuffed both pieces of mushroom into the back pockets of his shorts.

"Now, that's much better." He pushed his glasses back up his nose and then looked at the many paths spiraling through the trees and bushes.

"Oh, maple. Which way do I suppose the rabbit went?"

He stood, staring, as if that would help, and his curl of hair became frazzled and even more flyaway than it usually was.

_"'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves, _

_did gyre and gimble in the wabe. _

_All mimsy were the borogoves, _

_and the momeraths outgrabe." _

Matthew's eyes darted upwards, then to anything his eyes found next. Nothing, as far as he could see, could have said anything at all, and he scolded himself for beginning to imagine things. He continued to look, and promptly froze when his eyes came across a very large, toothy, cheerful grin.

_"_Have you lost something, _mi pequeño amigo__?" _


	9. A Very Merry Unbirthday

"Oh! Not at all Monsieur! I was simply-"

The smile seemed to ignore him, but Matthew didn't take much offence to it.

"Well! Second verse then!" The grin widened.

_"__'Twas brilllig, and the slithy toves,  
__did gyre and gimble in the wabe..." _

The Canadian blinked, before removing his glasses and cleaning them on his polo shirt. He felt it was becoming something of a habit. "Y-You're a cat!"

Said cat turned its sharp set of virid eyes at the boy, smile still set. It was perched on the tree branch above Matthew, tail flicking upwards at intervals.

"A _Cheshire_ cat." The standoffish stripes of yellow and crimson seemed to dissipate into the air, the cat vanishing.

"Wait!" Matthew flung his arms out and tried to reach for the cat, which reversed the vanishing process. It peeked from behind its tail- then- winking, it came back completely. "Please don't leave me all alone!" Matthew cried out. The cat drew its claws, inspecting them casually.

"Very well then, verse three-"

"Oh! Thank-you, but I was actually in need of directions."

The cat regarded him from half lidded eyes, stretching from its spot on the branch. It then it hung its front paws from the edge, beginning to wash itself. "It very much depends on where you want to be directed to."

The Canadian pushed his glasses back up his nose. "But, sir, it really doesn't matter, as long as I find-"

"Then, really, it doesn't matter which way you go... ¿no?" He began to hum absently, _"And the momeraths outgrabe"_

The cat's gaudy stripes disappeared along with his grin, claw marks ripping down the tree's bark, his footprints shuffling through the earth as his hum continued. The Canadian stamped his foot down with crossed arms and a slight pout. The cat once again became visible, turning around to him.

"Oh, if you really want to know; he went that-a-way." The cat chirped, pointing to the clearing to their left with a lazy mumble.

"Who did?" Matthew asked with a squeak.

"Why, the white rabbit of course." The cat told him.

The dull azure eyes suddenly brightened up. "Oh! He _did?" _

The cat observed him with lazy eyes. "He did what?"

"Went that-a-way!" The blonde squeaked, throwing his arm out in the direction the cat had pointed to a minute ago.

"Who did?" The cat asked again.

"The... white rabbit?" Matthew doubted his words as the cat's tail began to flicker in what Matthew didn't doubt to be annoyance.

"What rabbit do you speak of?"

Matthew groaned in exasperation.

"Didn't you just- what?" He then opted to stare at the bright cat, as it detached its head and proceeded to stand on it.

"Tell me, amigo, can you stand on your head?" The cat gave a foolish grin as the small boy stared on. The cat then stepped off of its head and placed it atop his shoulders once again: giving a slight sigh as it set into place. His comedic charms were clearly lost on Matthew.

"You know, if I were ever to look for a white rabbit, I'd probably ask the Mad Hatter."

Matthew looked uncertain. "M-Mad? I'd rather not-"

"Or, come to think, there is also the March Hare."

Matthew seemed to let relief grace his features for a moment.

"But of course," the cat shrugged, "he's mad too."

The relief was quickly replaced by grief.

"I can't abide all of this madness."

The cat was fast with his remarks, replying back with a quick: "You can't help that, most everyone here is. You may have noticed that I'm not all there myself." He illustrated his point by making the stripes of crimson dissipate, the gold stripes left casually unwinding and vanishing like ribbon, to the point that only his head was showing. "Oh! On the subject of finding things, you haven't seen anything of Lovi-dee, have you?"

Matthew shook his head, not much liking the purr of the cat and the strange gleam in eyes as the name rolled from his tongue.

"Very well, I'll find him by myself." He then gave a quick wink, and with a cry of "¡Adiós!" He vanished completely.

Matthew shook his head, taking the path that the cat had pointed to, wringing his hands and looking around with large eyes. "Well... If the people around here are all like that, I guess I better not upset them, eh?"

* * *

Matthew had been following the path with his eyes, feet tired, and soon he came to a neatly tended to hedgerow, complete with a wooden gate; painted with a soft rose colour that was peeling in places, a heart shape carved through the middle.

The blonde boy let his fingers tap against the wood, and the little gate swung open for him, inviting him. He took in the scene laid out before him.

A hare- well, more of a man, considering he had no animal-like features other than a set of large rabbit's ears- was drinking tea with another man. The two of them were dancing around (and even on) their food and pot laden table, which was surrounded by empty chairs, singing a rhyme or two as a small mouse that seemed to be engrossed with only a piece of cheese spared them a glance now and again.

_"...to us. If there be no objections, let it be unanimous!"_

The hatter, who had the most amazing eyebrows that Matthew had come across, suddenly spat out his tea and began to sing again, as if he had forgotten he was meant to.

_"-A very merry un-birthday!"_

_"A very merry un-birthday!"_

Both chinked their fine china cups together, singing rather loudly, so much that the golden coloured mouse quickly scattered into the teapot. _"_

_A very merry un-birthday to us!"_

The Canadian blinked, before he shut the gate behind him, watching with very large, saucer like, eyes.

The hare jumped from his seat again, mug sloshing dangerously.

_"A very merry un-birthday to me!"_  
_"To who?"_  
_"To me!"_  
_"Oh, you"_

The hatter drawled his last sentence, glaring at the hare from the corner of his eye as he took another sip of tea. Matthew drew closer, so that he was behind the largest, brightest, armchair, but he sprung back as the March hare burst into song again.

_"A very merry un-birthday to you!"_  
_"Who, me?"_  
_"Yes, you."_  
_"Oh, me!"_

The hatter this time threw his arms up with a large smile, the drink sloshing all over the pale table-cloth.

_"Let's all congratulate us with another cup of tea..."_

The hare proceeded to pick the dormouse from the teapot, the hatter producing hats for them out of his own like Russian dolls.

_"A very merry un-birthday to you!"_

With a large bang the two tall persons slammed their cups down.

"Hey! Iggy, do you see that?" The hare- or man- ( as Matthew was still rather unsure) gawked at Matthew, who was standing at the other end of the table and trying to conceal himself behind an armchair.

"Bloody hell! Give the lad a cup of tea!" The hatter shouted, and the hare quickly poured another cup of tea for the Canadian.

Matthew just stood there, immobilized rather, as the hare then seized him and dragged him to the other side of the table. The Canadian, rather flustered at the fact that they had been so welcoming, fell into the nearest chair.

"No room!" The mouse squeaked, the hatter and the hare then scrambling across the table, crying out a chant of "No room, no room, no room, no room, no room, no room, no room!"

As he was set down on the ground again Matthew pushed his glasses up his nose and pulled his strand of flyaway hair down (as it had sprung up rather wildly in the commotion). "But, there looks to be plenty of room to me."

"Yeah, but you can't sit down without an invitation, can you?" The hare stated with a smirk.

The hatter then raised his thick eyebrows in acknowledgement to this fact. "I'll say. Very rude indeed." He gave a huff of scolding and brushed some dust off of his black jacket, then straightening his emerald green waistcoat, which was emblazoned with the small signs you may find on a pack of cards.

"Very, very rude indeed!" The mouse squeaked, making the hatter turn his attention to him.

"We didn't include you in this conversation, Vash, so go back to your bloody teapot, will you?"

The mouse glared and muttered something about guns before going back to his teapot, grumbling as he clambered into it.

"I'm sorry, but I just..." Matthew began, but was interrupted before he could start.

"Never-mind that! The hero has given you permission to sit at the table!" The hare said, with a definite chirp of sing-song in his voice, pulling out a chair for Matthew and pushing a cup of tea at him.

"Drink up! Drink up!"

The Canadian brought his hands to rest around the cup, before he suddenly gave an "Oh!" and stared at the two persons sitting beside him. "Looks like I've gate-crashed your birthday party, eh?"

The two spat out their drinks.

"Birthday party?" The hatter gave a clattering laughter, to which the hare joined in with, and Matthew could of sworn he heard the mouse grumble something from inside the teapot.

"This isn't a birthday party!"

"Of course it isn't, it's an _un-birthday_ _party_." The hatter laughed, sipping at his tea while Matthew stared at them both.

"What exactly is an un-birthday?"

The hatter's hat jumped from his head, with a huff he brought it back down, and as the March hare began to jabber away he began adding sugar cubes to his cup of tea. The March Hare began to explain. Or, at least, he tried to.

"Its very simple. Now, thirty days have sept- no, when... An un-birthday, if you have a birthday- then you..."

Matthew giggled softly as the hare began to fall over his words, then the hare let out an echoing laugh to cover up his obvious lack of knowledge.

"He doesn't know what an un-birthday is! Sad, don't 'ya think, Iggy?"

The hatter gazed up from his cup, stilling his hand as what must have been at least the tenth cube of sugar slipped from his fingers and still amazingly created a slosh in the cup. "Ah-hum... I shall elucidate!" The hatter declared, straightening his jacket and tie.

"Now statistics prove, prove that you've _one_ birthday-"

"Imagine! Just one birthday a year!"

"Yes- _Thank-you,_ Alfred. _Now kindly keep quiet_." The hare nodded and sat back down, gazing into his cup.

The hatter turned back to Matthew and smiled softly.

"But, you also have three hundred and sixty four _un-birthdays_!"

"Precisely why we're gathered here to cheer!" The hare piped in, receiving another glare from the well dressed hatter.

"My! That means it's my un-birthday too!"

"It is?"

"Well, what a bloody coincidence!"

The hare ran to Matthew's side, making the Canadian almost jump out of his skin. Heart thumping, Matthew almost squeaked in surprise when the hatter also popped out from nowhere, and the two grabbed his shoulders; grinning like mad-men.

"In that case..."


	10. Of Wheels And Watches

"A_ very merry un-birthday,"_

_"To me?"_

_"__To you!"_

___Pip Pip!_

The hatter produced a cake, laden with candles and frosting, right out of his hat, inclining for the Canadian to take it, which he did with shaky hands. And as the teapots began to pipe out notes and whistle steam out with melodic sounding pitches the hatter and hare began to skip around him like children playing a playground game.

_"____A very merry un-birthday." __  
__  
"____For me?" _

_"__For you!"_

Matthew blinked at the cake in his hands, not really sure as if the decision to keep it in his grasp was entirely safe, and the hatter and the hare stopped their dancing to smile at him.

"_Now blow the candle out, my boy, and make your wish come true!" _

The Canadian did so, as the teapots continued to whistle and pip, and the candles whooshed up like fireworks.

"_A very merry un-birthday... To... You!" _

As they finished their song, the candles burst into colours and patterns, the small mouse from the teapot floating down as he hung onto an umbrella, in his other hand a piece of cheese.

"_Twinkle, twinkle, little gun,  
__Twisting your barrel is always fun!  
In my banks the profits fly,  
And my earnings are sky high!"_

As the mouse, (**Vash**, Matthew remembered), finished his rhyme, he landed into a teapot once again.

The hare dunked the saucer next to his cup into the fine pottery, rather like a biscuit, and Matthew winced awfully when he took a bite out of it. "Now, why don't you sit down and tell the hero all about that white rabbit?" The hare managed between bites.

Matthew shuffled in his chair, both the hatter and the hare sat either side of him, hanging on to both the table cloth and to his words.

"Oh! Well, you see, I'm looking for-"

"Clean cup! Clean cup! Move down!" The blonde looked at the cup with a slight sigh as he was picked from his seat again.

"But I haven't used my cup. So I don't really need a clean-"

"Clean cup, clean cup, move down, move down, clean cup, clean cup, move down!" The hare chorused while throwing the once full teacups to the ground as they moved further down the table, making Matthew unheard.

They sat him down and the hatter produced a teacup from the inside of his hat, then pouring the liquid into the collar of his shirt and shaking his arm, the Canadian wincing as he watched from behind his digits. He smiled, and with a flourish the tea ran straight out of his sleeve and into a china tea cup, the hatter smiling even more broadly and nudging the cup to Matthew as he too took his seat.

"Better get some more tea down you, lad." He said.

Matthew frowned, taking it. "But I haven't had any yet, so I can't very well take more-"

"Ahh, you mean you can't very well take less!" The March hare interjected, sipping at his tea.

"Yes, you can always take more than nothing." The hatter finalised, swirling his tea with a far-off look, which he quickly snapped out of.

"And now, my boy, something seems to be troubling you. Uh, won't you tell us all about it?" He asked, gazing up from his teacup to question Matthew with a thick eyebrow.

"I can keep a secret, but Iggy here, man. You should hear him in his sleep!"

"The cheek of it!" The hatter slammed down his cup, and then calmed down and addressed Matthew. "Start at the beginning."

Both men looked up to stare at Matthew; the Canadian paling at the unusual attention.

"Well, it all started while I was sitting on the riverbank with Kumajiro, and-"

"_Veery_ interesting." The hare commented, sipping from his tea.

"Who the bloody hell is Dinah?"

"My bear." Matthew replied, the dormouse from earlier springing out of his teapot.

"B-Bear?" Vash squeaked, and, without any further warning, he began to dart around the table, making the most awful sounds.

The hare jumped from his seat with a pot and a knife almost instantly as the hatter shouted. "Hurry! Quickly! The bloody Jam, Alfred! On his nose! Put it on his nose!" The hatter thumped the table with his fist, the mouse scattering around the table until the March Hare had managed to smear a blob of jam on his nose, the mouse falling into a daze at once.

"Where... is... the..."

The hare slid back into his seat with a sigh as the mouse began to snore lightly, both the hare and hatter turning back to a pale Matthew. The hatter inspected his teacup, and with a slight grimace he threw it to the floor, Matthew wincing at the sudden crash, but he still went to pick up his own cup, begging to feel thirsty.

Before he could sip at the beverage, he was once again dragged from his seat. "Clean cup! Clean cup! Move down, move down, _move do-wn_!"

The Canadian huffed as he took another seat; pouting with his arms crossed. "But I still haven't used-"

They obviously weren't listening. Matthew gave up.

The Englishman propped his head on his hands, watching intently. "And now, my boy, as you were saying..?"

Matthew blinked. "Oh!" He settled himself in his chair, sitting up rather awkwardly. "I was sitting on the riverbank with uh..."

The boy regarded the teapot holding the mouse with a questioning glance, and he whispered to the hatter from behind a hand, "with you know who..."

The hatter's green eyes snapped open; his expression gleeful. "I do?"

Matthew sighed at the simple minds that inhabited Wonderland. "I mean my B-E-A-R."

The hatter was silent and still, and then was, in a quick flourish, brandishing a teapot in the hare's direction.

"More tea!" The March hare took a knife and a cup, his tongue sticking out in concentration as he carefully sliced it right down the middle.

"Just half a cup, Iggy."

Matthew watched in complete fascination as tea was poured straight into the half of the pottery; not a single spot dripping onto the table-cloth.

"Would you care for some tea?" The hatter asked, drinking the piping hot beverage straight from the pot he had used to fill Alfred's half-cup; the liquid running straight down his throat.

"Well, I'm quite fond of tea, but I must say I-"

The March hare spat out a mouthful of tea. "If you don't care for tea, you could at least make polite conversation!"

"Well, I've been trying to ask you, rather politely I must add, ab-"

The hare raised a single finger into the air; smile wide. He thumped his hand against the table in triumph. "I have an excellent idea! Let's change the subject!"

The hatter nodded in agreement, and he steepled his fingers. "Why is a raven like a writing desk?"

Matthew pushed his glasses up his nose, in fashioned habit, and he cocked his head to one side in thought. "Let me see... Why, is a raven, like a writing desk?"

The hatter, who had just poured some more tea straight from the pot into his mouth, suddenly asked, "I beg your pardon?"

Matthew stood up; rather sick of being ignored by so many people in such a short amount of time. "I said, _why is a raven like a writing desk_?" His shout came out as nothing above his usual raspy tone, but the fists either side of his hips and the scowl across his brow obviously counted for something else.

"Why is a what!" The hatter jumped up in his seat, causing his hat to shoot upwards as well; the hare quickly following suit and flinging his arms around the Englishman's shoulders.

Alfred pointed an accusing finger, the finger in question shaking to abundance with nerves. "Careful! He's stark _raven_ mad!"

Arthur realised what the hare was doing, and he quickly flung him from his frame, straightening his card-deck embellished waistcoat.

The Canadian stamped his foot on the ground in aggravation, his usual curl of hair more bouncy than usual. "But- but it's _your_ stupid riddle!" He wagged a finger at the hatter. "You just said..."

"Don't go shaking your fingers at me!" The Englishman growled, doing some finger shaking of his own.

"H-How about a nice c-cup of t-t-tea?" The March Hare asked, hands still trembling as he offered out of cup and saucer.

Matthew scoffed, hands balled at his sides, and he slapped a hand against the table at the shaky words of the March hare.

"_A nice cup of tea, indeed!_ Well, _I'm sorry_, but I just haven't the time!" He sneered, turning sharply on his heel and marching across the length of the table.

The hare appeared suddenly from under the table and in front of Matthew, exclaiming loudly, hands cupped over his mouth.

"The time, the time! Who's got the time?"

A terrible clatter of white fur and black robes came crashing through the small gate: furry feet almost sprinting past the lot of them.

"No, no, no, no! No time, no time, no time!" Matthew span back on his feet to face the intrusion. "Hello, goodbye! I'm late! I'm late!"

Matthew almost screeched. "The white rabbit!"

"Oh, I'm so late! I'm so very very late!" The rabbit cried out whilst checking his pocket-watch again.

In a flash the watch was grabbed, the pull dragging the rabbit along too. "Well, no wonder you're late!" The hatter began, pointing a gloved hand against the glass of the watch.

The rabbit listened in earnest.

"This watch is exactly two days slow!" He finalised, rattling the contents of the watch without mercy.

The rabbit's expression, his watery blue eyes included, suddenly fell with a slight look of terror capturing him. "Two...Two days slow?"

The hatter laughed suddenly, the hare watching from over the Englishman's shoulder, who dunked the watch into the nearest claret teapot.

"Of course you're late." He let out a cackle of a laugh again. "Hahaha! My goodness." He withdrew the watch from the pot and threw it onto the table; some cogs and springs bounding out as he did so.

He brought a thumb and forefinger to his chin, pulling away the top of the watch and exposing the mechanics inside.

"We'll have to look into this... A-ha! I see what's wrong with it!" He exclaimed and poked the cogs with a fork. "Why, this watch is full of wheels!"

With his exclamation he began to pull almost every cog, wheel and spring from the interior of the golden watch, the watch making a terrible sound as it was mangled.

The rabbit, who was fiddling with his embroidered gloves while watching in absolute horror, suddenly started to grab at the flying pieces of metal. "Oh, my good watch! Oh, my wheels! My springs!" The next spring bopped him square on the nose, and he rubbed at the offended area while watching the cogs fly from the table.

"But- but- but- but, but- but- but..."

He padded around to the side of the table that the hatter was now sitting by, clamping his hands over his eyes and only sneaking glances now and again at his poor watch.

The hatter shook a reasonably ridiculous amount of sugar into the watch, deep in concentration, when he suddenly grinned.

"Butter! Of course, we need some butter! Butter!" Not a single one out of the other four persons at the table moved. "I need some bloody butter, Alfred!"

The hare flapped his mouth to no real purpose, and he quickly scrambled for what the Englishman was asking for.

When he found said lump, he offered it to the hatter; bellowing in his loudest voice. "Butter!"

The hatter had put down the shaker full of sugar, (which was now more or less empty) to take the butter from the hare.

"Butter, oh, thank you, butter. Ha ha. Yes, that's fine." He chirped to himself, taking a knife and slicing off a good amount of the butter, then spreading it inside the watch.

It was around this point that the white rabbit had decided to look from behind his fingers. "By Rome! You'll get crumbs in it!"

He then saw the mangled sight of the watch, and quickly put his fingers back in front of his eyes; horrified beyond belief.


	11. Darkening Woods

_"Oh!_ This is the very ___best_ butter_!" _The hatter exclaimed, swinging his hand back and knocking the white rabbit to the floor as he led the knife down on the table.

"Tea?" The hare inquired, propping the pot of tea up with a single finger.

"Tea!" The hatter clapped his hands together. "Oh, I never thought of tea! Of course!"

He hummed as he poured the liquid into the watch, the butter melting over the sides and soaking into the table-cloth, staining it horribly. The white rabbit had regained his usual state of mind, and he quickly scrambled up to collect his mangled watch.

"No!" But as he jumped forwards the March Hare kicked his foot out with an offering of sugar to the hatter, which sent the rabbit flying backwards once again.

"Sugar..?"

"Sugar. Two spoons, yes, ha, two spoons." Without thinking, Matthew handed him two teaspoons, which he took with a flourish of his hand. "Thank you, yes." He mumbled, placing the spoons into the sodden watch and crashed them down, so that they stuck straight out of the gold filigree watch, more springs jumping out of place.

"Oh, please! By Roma Antigua, will you be careful?!" The rabbit pleaded, watching with large, saucer-like eyes.

"Jam..?" The hare asked, putting the pot of jam into the rabbit's hands, which was quickly swiped by the Englishman.

"Jam! I bloody well forgot all about jam!" He laughed, turning the pot upside down and smacking the bottom of it as to entice the stuff out of its pot. He picked up the knife that he had used for the butter and spread the jam around the surface of the watch too, the rabbit a ghastly pale and completely flabbergasted.

"Mustard..?" The hare yawned, his feet propping up the pot of mustard as he leant back in his chair with his feet on the table. The hatter nodded and took it from Alfred's feet, before creasing his brow.

"Mustard?" He stopped himself from spreading the yellow paste around the already smothered watch, and he turned to the March hare whilst throwing the pot over his shoulder; Matthew and the white rabbit both jumping at the crash.

"_Mustard_? Don't let's be silly!" He picked up a different pot full with a dark maroon substance. "Now, Marmite, that's different." The hatter began to hum again, Matthew not sure what he was actually watching, but he looked a little less confused than the rabbit was.

A triumphant "Humph!" Came from the hatter, and he smacked the watch shut, then taking his knife and cutting away the excess mess that had collected around the edges of the golden watch. "That should do it." He chuckled, and he held the watch at arms length, Alfred once again looking over his shoulder, closely followed by the Canadian and the white rabbit.

He set it down, and it immediately began to buzz and ring a terribly high-pitched note, while it seemingly hopped around the table. It suddenly sprang open; whirring, spinning and twisting madly.

"Will you bloody look at that!"

"Its going mad!"

"Oh, maple!"

"My watch!"

"It is going mad! Mad watch!"Alfred began to shout and point fingers at the still whizzing and whirring watch, the remaining cogs and springs bounding out of the watch as it snapped open and closed, still hopping about.

Arthur tipped off his black velvet hat, scratching his head as he frowned. "I don't understand, I used the very best butter, and the Marmite should of stopped it from bounding around..." Nobody seemed to be listening to the hatter, as the hare was still jumping from foot to foot and pointing madly.

"Mad watch! Mad watch! Mad watch!"

Another ear-splitting groan came from the mechanics of the watch, and it suddenly began to splutter and almost cough.

"There's only one way to stop a mad watch!" The hare stated, bringing a mallet (from nowhere Matthew could understand) up above his head, then crashing it downwards.

Another whir came from the watch, _which now really was a terrible mash of metal_, and the white rabbit collected it in his paws.

The hatter struck his palm with a triumphant fist. "Two days slow, that's the bloody problem with it!"

The white rabbit looked dejectedly at the poor excuse for a watch, his eyes scanning each of them for some sign of sympathy. "Oh, my watch." He sniffled, another spring bounding out of the mangled mess.

"It was?"

The white rabbit nodded. "And it was an un-birthday present, too."

The hatter and hare suddenly stood together at the shoulders, hands on hips and grins wide. "Well, in that case..."

They picked him up, then proceeded to swing him back and forth in direction of the gate, and the teapots proceeded to whistle out their earlier tune.

"_A very merry un-birthday..." _

They flashed one-another a grin, and swung him backwards.

"_To..." _

_"You...!"_

With their final note, the teapots chimed together, and the white rabbit was flung over the gate and into the foliage ahead, Matthew unable to see a thing. The hatter and hare waved off the rabbit, although the Canadian was quite sure he couldn't see them from where he had been thrown to, and he made a mad dash for the gate; planning to catch up with that white rabbit once and for all.

As soon as he clattered through the gate he made a dash for the nearest path, although his thin legs were quickly failing him, but he continued until the road split into three paths, and then four, and five, then-

_Matthew had no idea where he was now._

He'd run so far that he couldn't hear the raucous shouts of the persons whom he was sharing tea with only a few minutes ago, but that wasn't what annoyed him right now. What really annoyed him is that he'd lost the rabbit once again.

He folded his arms and kept a brisk pace, his eyes scanning the forest scenery with a slight scowl. "Of all the silly nonsense; following a rabbit down a hole, talking to a doorknob, seeing a singing seagull, growing so tall, and then so short, those strange twins, that little yellow bird, that cheshire cat, along with the stupidest tea party I've ever been to in all my life-"

He followed path, not caring for the other twists and turns. He didn't much care in which direction he was going in now.

"Well, I've had enough nonsense. I'm going home. _Straight home."_

His legs, from all of the walking and jumping about, were rather tired and ached terribly. "That damn rabbit..." He tutted, pushing his glasses up. "Who cares where he's going anyway? Why, if it hadn't been for him I..." Matthew almost tripped on a stray tree root, which was rather tall for his liking, and his eyes met with a rather old, murky, wooden sign. "'Tulgey Wood'... Hmm, curious." He cocked his head to one side, contemplating the direction the sign was pointing to.

"I don't remember this. Now, let me see..." He wasn't aware of the small creature, which looked rather like a pair of glasses; until it fell in front of his own pair.

"Oh! Uh, no no, please. No more nonsense."

He shooed the creature away and squinted around in the semi-darkness. "Now, if I came this way," He began to himself, flicking his hand casually in the direction. "I should go _back_ this way!" He clapped his hands together and pointed further to said direction, then pacing briskly back to where he thought he would find the same dirt path from before.

He didn't think to check for the same tree stump, and he fell over it with a terrible crack and a slight yelp of pain.

"Oh! My leg,"

He sat himself up and tried to bring the bruised mass back to him, the pain splintering through his knee as he did so. He blinked away the tears that came with the now subsiding pain, and he staggered to his feet.

He shuffled across the path, blinking and squinting for something other than a mass of leaves and branches, and his eyes met occasionally with the odd creature. "When I get home I shall tell papa about this place... If I- if I ever do get home... Oh my. It's getting dreadfully dark. And nothing looks familiar. I shall certainly be glad to get out of... Oh!"

He bit down a slight scream as the pain burst out again, and he pushed himself away from the nearest tree as to try and walk faster. "...It would be so nice if something would make sense for a change!"

He bit down against his lip again, muffling the yelp of pain, and he opened his eyes very slowly after realising he had wedged them shut when grabbing for his leg.

"Oh! A path! Oh thank goodness! Oh, if I hurry back I might even get back before papa would know! Oh, Kumajiro would be happy to see me! Oh, I just can't wait 'till I- Ow!"

He had ran blindly before he could think.

He clutched his leg again, and as he fell to his knees, sparing a glance for the path: Which was disappearing faster than he could see. "Oh dear! Now I- now I'll never get home. Well, when- when one's lost, I- I suppose it's good advice to stay where you are, until someone finds you. But- but who'd think to look for me here?"

He sniffled, and he made his way to the nearest tree, his leg slightly better, but it still made him seethe when moved.

"If I'd listened earlier I wouldn't be here! But that's just the trouble with me."

He hadn't realised that he had been crying, and as the tears streamed warmly down his cheeks he brought his hands away from his leg to wipe them away.

_"I give myself... Very good advice..."_  
_"B__ut I very seldom follow it._  
_That explains the trouble that I'm always in."_

He brought a hand to wipe away the small smear of blood that had formed on his leg, watching as it mingled with the salty tears that still refused to stop splashing down his cheeks and onto his polo shirt.

_"Be patient is very good advice, but the waiting makes me curious.  
And I'd love the change, should something strange begin." _

He tried to lie his leg flat, but the sharp pain made him stop immediately, and instead he brought his face to his hands and sighed deeply.

_"Well, I went along my merry way, and I never stopped to reason.  
__I should have known there'd be a price to pay, some day."_

The sky grew even darker, and Matthew was rather terrified of the fact that he didn't know what this world was fully capable of throwing at him.

_"Some day. I give myself very good advice, but I very seldom follow it.." _

Matthew couldn't help it, and he sobbed uncontrollably; Shaking in hysterics and hissing at his leg. A warm, furry feeling brushed his face, and he looked straight into a tail of crimson and gold.

"Now now now! Why the long face, amigo?


	12. Red Roses

**cries bc man i've almost done editing**

* * *

"Oh, Cheshire Cat, it's you!" Matthew squeaked in relief, the cat's tail promptly missing from his line of vision until the entire cat then appeared before him, flashing a brilliant white smile.

"Whom did you expect? The white rabbit, perchance?" His grin was rather wide, and Matthew felt rather sorry for Lovi-dee if he had been found by the cat, although he had no idea why.

He sniffled, again the pain searing through his leg, and he bit back a sob without much luck. "Oh, no no no no. I- I- I'm through with rabbits."

He sniffled softly as the cat watched with his bright green eyes, like glass marbles in the gloom. "I want to go home. But I can't find my way."

The cat inspected its paws and crossed over each other with a rather sympathetic look. "Naturally. That's because you have no way."

The blonde looked up from his knees to question the cat's explanation with a raised brow. "All ways here you see," He began in his purr, motioning his paws. "Are the _**queen's**_ ways."

Matthew didn't much like the sneer that the cat gave with the word 'queen', and Matthew was glad he hadn't chanced across this woman, but he let his curiosity break anew. "But I've never met any queen."

The cat looked simply flabbergasted, his ears perked up with this statement.

"You _haven't_? You _have-n't_?" His ears and head both sprang into the air as he asked the question with a rather loud chuckle. "Oh, but you must!" He exclaimed, the Canadian not too fond of his loud shouts and dramatic cries. "She'll be mad about you, simply _mad_! Ah ha ha!"

Matthew got up to his feet, his leg a littler easier to walk on now, and he leant against the tree he had been sitting against before, the cat humming absently to himself.

"_And the momeraths outgrabe..."_

Quite worried that the cat had forgotten he was even there and for the fact that he was dissipating into the air once again, he spoke up, although his voice was still raspy. "Please, please! Uh... how can I find her?"

The cat's jaw dropped, and he quickly put it back into place with a chuckle of mirth, as he reappeared in the closest tree to the blonde. "Find _her_! You want to _find her_?"

Matthew stamped on the ground with his good leg, and he glared at the cat. "Yes! If she's in charge of this mad world, then I guess it'd be a good idea to speak with her and see if she can get me home!"

Matthew missed the slight strain the cat made to hear him, and he rolled onto his back. "Well, some go this way," He began with a flick of his hand. "Some go that way." In the other direction he stretched and pointed as he got to his feet. "But as for me, personally, I prefer the _short-cut._"

He grinned his large Cheshire grin: he had one hand propped on his bright crimson and gold tail as he spoke, and the other he used to pull down the branch above his head, the hollow of the very same tree opening like a drawbridge, showing hedges in the distance.

The Canadian took off his glasses and gave them a good clean against the material before stepping into the scenery before his eyes.

He looked around, the sky now clear and blue once again, and he tried his best to put a skip into his half-good step as he heard whistling and humming from the near distance.

"_Da dee dee da da da,  
__Doodle de do, dee do dee do,  
__B-Bum bum bum bum," _

Matthew tried his best to quicken his pace, following the sound as he turned corner after corner.

_"Painting the roses red,  
__we're painting the roses red,  
__we dare not stop or waste a drop,  
__so let the paint be spread." _

As the singing got louder, Matthew began to speed around the corners, stopping short as a splatter of red paint landed before him, in a glistening heap on the grass in front of him. He hadn't gotten far when another drop landed beside him, and he turned sharply to see paint splatting over the hedge towards him.

_"We're painting the roses red,  
__we're painting the roses red!" _

The Canadian, rather curious as to what someone would be doing singing about painting roses and throwing around red paint, he tried his best to jump up and see over the hedgerow.

_"Painting the roses red,  
__and many a tear we shed," _

_"Because we know they'll cease to grow," _

_"In fact they'll soon be dead." _

Matthew bounded so much to the left in his attempt to see the sight he was so curious to see, and he actually jumped past the entrance to that section of the maze, then quickly moved back to the entrance; peeking around the corner.

What he saw were three cards, which seemed to be of around the same height except for one who was very short, which were all from the suit of clubs. The smallest looked about to cry, as his eyes were very bleary and he had trouble reaching even the bottom flowers. The next tallest, the two of clubs, was trying his best to help the small ace of clubs to paint them, but he himself looked rather panicked_. _

_"__And yet we go ahead,  
__painting the roses red,  
__red, red, red, red, red, red, red." _

As they all sung, rather softly, Matthew moved forwards, only to tut at them when they moved their buckets of paint along to the next rose bush.

_"Painting the roses red,  
__we're painting the roses red..." _

The small ace of clubs cocked his head to one side, and he tapped the tall three of clubs on the shoulder.

_"__Oh, pardon me, but mister Three, why must we paint them red?" _

The three of clubs stopped painting the next white rose, and he turned to the ace, the Canadian watching from a safe difference. The three scoffed and placed his hands where his hips would be. "Oh, Raivis, you know how the queen is! We're painting these red because the Knave of Hearts swapped the red seeds for white ones, and it'll be our heads if she ever finds out!"

The card of two looked like he wanted to say something, and at the same time as if he didn't want anything to do with them, but looked torn between either option.

Matthew was about to walk away when he placed too much weight on his bad leg, making him wheeze in pain, and the two of clubs span around.

"Oh! Look at you! Poor boy!" The two of clubs quickly dropped his paintbrush into his bucket, and he paced over to Matthew. "You may of sprained that."

Matthew let himself be led back to the group of now three cards, and he looked at them rather hopefully. "Who-Who're..."

"The Baltic trio." The three of clubs stated, regarding the Canadian with a slight reprimanding gaze. "And you would be..?"

"Oh! Matthew." All three frowned, obviously to hear him better, and they nodded in fake agreement. "I would like to help you all-"

"Not with that poor leg of yours." The two of clubs interjected.

Matthew watched them, bad leg stinging, as they painted each and every single rose in the garden, singing their tune from before.

_"__We're painting the roses red.  
__Don't tell the queen what you have seen,  
__or say that's what we said..." _

_"We're painting the roses red...  
__Yes, painting the roses red..." __  
__  
"__Not pink," _

_"Not green..." _

_"__Not aquamarine..." _

_"__We're painting the roses red!" _

As they began to hum instead, the smallest card, Raivis, giggled as he managed to reach one of the roses without help from the other two cards. But as they revelled in their handy-work, a fanfare of trumpets met their ears, all three cowering and lying on the floor.

"The Queen! The Queen!"

They all quivered, but not at least as badly as the smallest card did, and Matthew thought it would be only best if he did the same, the fanfare getting louder as the steps of many marching feet met with his ears also. The menacing feet came closer, and Matthew chanced a glance at the looming cards, which were all of the heart suit, and he quickly put his head back down as they all lined up either side of the cowering four on the floor.

"Cards, halt!" All of the cards stood to attention, each holding a menacing looking lance, which was pointed terribly at the end, and as they stood in line (in numerical order), the white rabbit from before came crashing through the middle of their line; trumpeting until he was blue in the face.

Matthew almost gasped at the sight of the rabbit, and he almost giggled at the sight of the large black hat he wore. It was, like most things in Wonderland, rather silly and peculiar. Although with everything being strange and silly, there was little room for it to amuse him.

The rabbit panted terribly as he brought the trumpet from his lips, and wheezing with loss of breath he managed to declare; "He...he... her imperial highness, he... her grace, her excellency, her royal majesty, the Queen Elizaveta of Hearts!"

A woman appeared next, in something Matthew thought looked rather pompous, all fancy ruffles and lace edging. She fluttered her eyes, smiling kindly at the cards, and she flipped back her long brown hair: which was pinned away from her eyes with hair clips that resembled emblems from a pack of cards. She walked forwards with untarnished grace, and an equally well dressed man tapped the white rabbit on the shoulder, his suit sharing the same patterns as the Queen's dress.

"Oh!" The rabbit regarded the man with a bow, but he didn't offer a regal fanfare. "And King Roderich of Hearts!" He added, the man huffing as the cards cheered for their queen instead. With a huff of "Moron" at the rabbit, the King stood where he was.

The queen turned to look at her beautiful rose bushes for the first time, and as she did the sweet smile was torn from her expression: she scowled, marching over one of the freshly painted roses, the paint dripping from it in copious amounts. She let her thin, pretty, fingers drape over the flower, and her scowl molded into a face of pure anger as the wet paint dripped over her fingers and splattered to the ground.

She ripped the flower from the rosebush, and she proceeded to twirl it in her fingers, scowl firm. "Who's been painting my roses red?" Silence met her, and she turned sharply on her heels, her paint-stained hand shown to the cards. "_Who's been painting my roses red!?_" Silence met her again, and she paced in a circle, scowl still present.

_"____Who dares to taint,  
____with vulgar paint,  
the royal flower bed?"_

She shook her fist at them all, gritting her teeth.

_"____For painting my roses red,  
someone will loose his head!" _

She noticed the quivering cards on the floor, and Matthew was for once glad that he wasn't easily noticeable.

She paced over, and held out her outstretched hand, covered in paint, for them to see.

"Oh, no! Your majesty! Please, it's all Toris' fault!" The queen snapped her eyes to where the middle sized card was shaking, an eyebrow raised.

"Not me, your grace! The Ace, the Ace!"

Matthew couldn't believe how easily they threw the blame around, but stayed quiet and a little fearful.

The queen, now fuming, brought her hand to Raivis' face, a predatory smirk set. "You dare paint my roses red, Ace?" She asked, sneering. The ace of clubs began to sniffle, and Matthew felt sorry for him until he again passed the blame on.

"Not me, the two!"

The queen turned back to Toris, sparing a questioning glance for Raivis. "The deuce, you say?"

"Not me, the trey!"

The queen finally snapped, and she shook her fists into the air, shrieking for all she was worth. "That's enough! _In with their heads!_" The cards of the heart suit burst into whispers at the three Baltic cards, and Matthew thanked the lord that nobody had spotted him.

_"__They're going to loose their heads,  
for painting the roses red,  
it serves them right,  
they planted white,  
the roses should be red.  
Oh, they're going to loose their head..." _

"**Silence!**" She screeched, and one of the taller cards of hearts tapped her on the shoulder, a frying pan in his hand.

"Umm... Your majesty, would you rather me do it? Or would you prefer..." Her face split into a grin, and she snatched the frying pan from the Jack of heart's hands.

"Oh, no, I must insist. Royal duty, you see." She raised the pan, brandishing it before the Ace of clubs, and Matthew couldn't help himself but shout out.

"Oh, please, please! They were only trying to..."

Her hand stilled, and she let them fall to her sides instead, then placing them on her hips as she looked at the Canadian.

"And, just who, is this?" She asked, her eyes narrowed at the blonde boy.

The King quickly dashed to her side, and he pulled his glasses down slightly as to look at Matthew without them, before pushing them back up.

"Well, it could be... Well... I don't know actually, my dear. It's definitely not a Heart... Do you think it may be a club?"

The queen clicked her fingers, and heart cards immediately began to pick up the other cards and carry them off, and Matthew gulped as she suddenly smiled broadly at him.

"Why, it's a young gentleman."

Matthew was about to speak out again when the queen's soft voice and smile vanished again. "Get up, speak nicely, and don't twiddle your fingers!"

Matthew stumbled to his feet and leant to one side as he tried to keep himself from putting too much strain on his bad leg. "Stand straight. Bow. Open your mouth a little wider, and always say 'yes, your majesty'!"

Matthew quickly bowed at her, and then opened his mouth so far that he blushed gently at the thought of how stupid he must of seemed.

"Y-Yes... Your m-majesty!" He squeaked, and the queen watched him from an angle as King Roderich paced around him as to inspect him further.

The queen gave him a reproachful look, and she half sneered at him; "Where do you come from, and where are you going?"

Matthew stumbled on his words again, and he fought against himself loosing control of his mouth, lest he shout something terrible at the seemingly bi-polar queen.

"Well, um, I'm trying to find my way home..."

The queen bent over, her hair falling over her shoulders in their slight curls, and she brought her face to level with his. "**Your** way? All ways here are **my** ways!"

Matthew looked away from her, as he really didn't know what to make of her screeching and rampant need to shout at everyone.

"Yes."

She arched a brow at him.

"___Your majesty__," _He added, "but I was only going to ask..."

She scoffed and Matthew wished he'd of never seen the white rabbit on the riverbank. The trouble he was in was getting out of hand.

"I'll ask the questions!"

The Canadian nodded, and the queen brought a hand and a forefinger to her chin, tilting her head almost sweetly at him.

"Do you play croquet?"


	13. A Game Well Played

Matthew had to admit, he'd only played it once when his father had taken him to see his brother and his 'mother' over in England. His family, which was really just a rabble of men with scraped knees and blonde hair, didn't really have time for pleasantries such as croquet.

"I asked you a question, young man! And you'd be doing good for yourself to answer it immediately!" The queen swung the frying pan in her hand, letting it come dangerously close to the Canadians' face, and she brought it back again to tap the cast-iron with dainty fingernails.

"W-Well, I've only played it once, and-"

"Let the game begin!" The queen boomed, the cards scrambling as the Austrian king ordered them about, and the white rabbit began to fanfare with such a speed Matthew could of sworn he wasn't actually trumpeting.

"In your places, in your places, By order of the king! Hurry, hurry, hurry!" The cards continued to shuffle about, a vein throbbed in the red-faced queen's temple, and her terrible voice boomed out again, shrill and fierce;

"Shuffle deck!"

"Cards cut!"

"Deal cards!"

"Cards, halt!"

The cards did as such, in such a rush that it was a miracle that they actually managed to get themselves into neat arches, and as the queen studied the court the knot in the Canadians' stomach tightened.

The white rabbit sped up the the queen with a his hands full with frying pans, each with various handles and of various sizes., She smiled sweetly as she picked one out, then studying it with her pretty eyes.

"Excellent. Thank you, Romanum." The rabbit looked extremely pleased with himself, and he smiled smugly as he retreated with his pans, after throwing a much more beaten-up, old pan at the blonde.

He held it loosely in his fingers, trying to remember if it was customary in his last game to use such an object, but he wasn't about to question the queen about it.

The queen shot Matthew a sweet look, and she paced over to where another card had set up a post for her to aim from. She stopped, bent over so much that Matthew looked away from her ashamedly, and poised her pan with a look of pure venom and competitiveness.

The pan's handle went limp in her hands, and with a slight growl tearing from her throat; she shook it until it regained its straight shape once again.

The white rabbit, ___Romanum__, _appeared at her side once again, placing a ball for her to hit, that Matthew only noticed was a tiny mouse when it attempted to scurry away. The queen growled at it too, and it quickly cowered into a ball, ready for her to hit it.

A smirk played at her lips, and she swung her pan back, bringing it forwards with so much force that she smashed the ball almost through the hedge at the end of the small box they were enclosed in.

With a shriek from the mouse as it careened forwards, the cards made a scramble to let it pass under them, the queen smiling at her apparent 'handy-work', while Matthew stood with his jaw agape at the fact that she was so terrifying that she wasn't even allowed to loose a croquet match.

She clapped her hands together with an almost girlish laugh of joy, and she hugged her husband by the neck. "Oh! I'm so wonderful, aren't I Roderich?" She giggled and the king cleared his throat, not about to let her hit him with the frying pan still in her hand, which was knocking against his back as her hands draped across his back.

"Ah, Of course you are my dear! No questions asked!" He faked enthusiasm, expression mildly fearful, and once she uncrossed her arms from his back to take her next shot he sighed in relief.

She waved at her people, of which were an entirety of cards, and she swung back again; the mouse shooting straight forwards and the cards scrambling into position. Queen Elizaveta stared wide eyed at her shot, smiling as the cards moved into place for the mouse.

Roderich made a strangled noise at the sudden 'oh!' that littered through the crowd and his face turned a ghastly pale shade as he smacked his lips together without much intention.

"Hmm? What is it, dear?" The queen asked, looking over at the cards on the court.

She looked ready to murder.

The last card, in all of the mayhem, hadn't managed to get to the 'ball' in time, and it had instead landed flat only a few feet from it.

"Someone give him the pan!" She cried shrilly, and the card was carried away in the same way that the Baltic trio had been earlier.

Matthew swallowed thickly.

She turned to him with a sickly sweet smile, and she tossed her hair over her shoulders. "Your turn, dear boy." She nudged him softly to the peg that he was to take his shot from, and she looked elated as the pan went limp in his hands too.

She let out a shrill laugh, the crowd following this, and Matthew narrowed his eyes at the frying pan: shaking it until it eventually went rigid once again, just about stopping himself from kicking it. He didn't think that much good would of come out of kicking a metal kitchen utensil.

The white rabbit set down another mouse, which looked rather smug, obviously certain that the frail boy wouldn't be able to even nick his fur with the pan, and Matthew settled on a glare.

He swung the pan backwards, and with as much strength as he could muster, he whacked the smug mouse straight ahead of himself.

The crowd fell silent, but as the mouse approached the arched cards they led themselves flat; preventing the Canadian from a win. Matthew tightened his grip on the pan, and the crowd of lance-carrying cards fell about in laughter.

The queen laughed, flipping her hair once again, and she clapped her hands together at Matthew's failue___._

_"__La la la da da dum... la la la hmm..." _Matthew felt a tug at his leg, and he looked down to see the Cheshire cat gazing up at him with a large grin. "How are you, amigo?"

Matthew sighed at the familiar face, and he replied nonchalantly whilst pushing his glasses back up his nose, "my, I'm just terrible."

The cat strained his ears, and rather rudely he asked with a widening of his grin, "Beg pardon?"

Matthew really couldn't believe that such a familiar face would be so rude towards him, under such circumstances. "I said 'terrible'." He squeaked in such a loud voice that even the queen turned to him in surprise.

"Whom are you talking to?"

The Canadian blinked, and he played with the hem of his polo shirt as he looked at the grass instead of at her harsh features.

"Oh, uh... a cat,"

Queen Elizaveta raised a brow at his sudden impertinence.

_"Your majesty!"_ He amended, and she smiled sweetly, before frowning again.

"What cat do you speak of?" She looked around as if she couldn't see the cat.

He was right there! Was she blind?

"There!" The queen snapped her head to the direction he pointed to, and she frowned at the now empty space at the side of her head.

The cat appeared at the other side of her, and Matthew piped up again. "Oh! Oh, there he is again!"

She span around once, and when she almost lost her balance she again leveled herself to Matthew's face.

"I warn you child," She began, wagging a thin finger,"If I loose my temper, you loose your head, understand?"

The Canadian nodded, swallowing the lump of pure terror that had surfaced in his throat, and she smiled her deathly-sweet smile at him once again.

The cat tugged at his shorts again, and he turned to it with slight resentment. "You know, we could make her really angry. Shall we try?" He gave a large grin, and the Canadian folded his arms.

"No."

The cat sighed, and he tugged at his shorts again, then dissipating into the curls of crimson and gold that quickly reappeared around her shoulders; the cat bringing out a single claw which hung to the part of her dress that framed her bust, and he grinned.

"But it's _really_ fun." He grinned, and Matthew threw his hands over his eyes in horror as he heard the terrible rip and the screech of pure anger from the queen.

When he brought his fingers away from his eyes once again, the Hungarian woman was fussing with the material which refused to cover her corset from prying eyes, and the Canadian wedged his eyes away before he could see something that his papa would surely scold him for seeing.

"Whoo! Take it all off!" Another voice sounded, and the blonde opened his orbs of azuline to stare at the intruder.

A knight was eyeing the queen with a rather sharp pair of red eyes, his hair messy and silvery-white.

"You have no right to stare at the queen!"

The knight, who quickly snapped his eyes away from the fumbling Hungarian to look at the owner of the voice, quickly bounded over to the king instead.

"Hey! Specs! Gosh, have I missed you-"

"___You!" _The queen interrupted the 'reunion' with an accusing point and a murderous scowl._ "You _did this to my dress, you insolent little brat!"

Matthew went pale, and he backed up until he was seized around the shoulders by the knight. "Who've we got here? Cute little-"

"That scoundrel is responsible for making a public laughing-stock out of me! Tribulation against the crown! I shall not stand for it!"

The Knave scoffed, and he rocked back and forth on his feet, the queen narrowing her eyes and poking Matthew square in the chest.

"You, shall receive your penalty immediately;_ Death." _

The blonde whimpered and the Knave of Spades tutted with a smirk.

"Don't be so harsh on the kid! I'm sure this is all just a misunderstanding. Or, you know, something."

The queen picked up her gaze, and she sneered at the Knave. "And you. You've been hiding for the entire week! When I get my hands on you, I swear I'll-"

The king suddenly clapped his hands together. "I say! We should hold a trial for the boy. It's only fair, Elizaveta,"

_"_Specs is right! We should totally give him a fair trial first!"

The queen huffed at their group effort to save the boy, but her glower faltered slightly.

"Very well. But he'll still be found guilty; _Mark my words." _


	14. Order In The Courtroom? Unlikely

**cries bc i edited this one and then didn't upload it and deleted it instead i am so stupid**

* * *

Matthew stood patiently in the dock, and the knave yawned, clearly not too worried about his trial, as he was brought to the stand.

The white rabbit trumpeted from his high pedestal, and he read aloud from a long list. "Gilbert Beilschmidt, Knave of Spades! You have been called to this courtroom, for many, many offences against the crown."

The rabbit unfolded the list, and the knave smirked at the extensive length. The king, if anything at all, seemed to go pale as a sheet.

"The prisoner at the bar is charged with enticing her majesty to commit acts of malice, making unadulterated fun of the queen at her own expense, committing to ___more _than one act of adultery with the king-"

"Oh! I forgot I did that!" He began to laugh as the queen's face grew red, and as the king became more and more uncomfortable, until he was crumpled and wheezing out his laughs between coughs.

he queen, face red, was gazing off into the distance, and she had balled her fist so tightly that her whole hand was turning white.

"Why was I not informed of this?!" She glared at everyone, from the stockade to the jury, who were busy scribbling away, and she cried out almost helplessly. "I want cameras set up next time!"

"What's the point in trying to be serious with this man?" The queen sighed, watching the knave as he continued to giggle away to himself. "You get one final chance, Beilschmidt. That is all. You are excused from the courtroom."

The knave looked at her in pure disbelief at being let off from his countless offences with no punishment, and she glared as he cheered to the air and ran straight out of the courtroom, knocking over anything he could as he went. The queen cursed under her breath, the court able to hear his clattering and cheering even after a while, and the white rabbit looked Matthew from over his paper with a slight look of sympathy.

His breath caught in his throat.

The rabbit called out his name, and he wished very much to be invisible once again, as being visible had caused him a terrible amount of trouble already.

Matthew was pushed up to the box, and he grimaced at the cards holding lances either side of him.

The rabbit cleared his throat, and he peered from over his list to address the different groups in the courtroom. "Your majesty, members of the jury, loyal subjects," Romanum was about to continue when Roderich tapped him on the shoulder from his seat._ "__And the king._" The rabbit finished with a sigh.

_"_The prisoner at the bar is charged with enticing her majesty, the Queen of Hearts, into a game of croquet, and thereby willfully..."

Matthew cried out, incredulous, "I didn't do any of that!"

The rabbit continued as if Matthew hadn't spoken, "and with malice aforethought, teasing, tormenting, and otherwise annoying arb..."

The queen shot from her seat with a smack of palms against wood. "Don't mind all of that! Get to the part where I loose my temper."

She smiled sweetly at the thought of herself red in the face with anger, and she flicked her hair absently as she sat back down in her seat, beaming politely.

Romanum's ears sprung upwards at her shout, and in his attempt to both push his hat back down on his ears and to read from the list he began to babble incomprehensibly.

_"____Buwbuwbuwl..." _

He found his place, and he sighed as he read calmly once again.

"...Thereby causing the queen to loose her temper."

The queen smiled a terrible smile at the young blonde boy at the bar, and she rubbed her hands together as her smile became more of a meticulous smirk.

"Now..." She let out a terrible bark of laughter, which once again melded into a cackle that was much more horrific than the previous sound.

"For your sentence, _you half-witted stick of a child_." She pressed forwards and leant over the wooden platform with her lower arm as support.

Matthew gazed upwards with a look of utter confusion painted across his dainty features._ "Sentence? _But what about my verdict?"

The queen looked as if he had just screamed at her in French or some other shockingly scary language. (Although, apart from his papa, Matthew was unsure if there was any shockingly scary element to French-).

"My dear, I think what he meant to say, and I was too thinking of this," The king began, "that perhaps a verdict first would be the _right_ way to-"

"**All ways here are ****my**** ways!**" She bellowed, and almost everyone in the court-room winced at the sheer screech. The queen let her cheeks pale slightly, and she stood, adjusting her crown with what the Canadian realised were heavily bejeweled fingers.

She smiled at all of them, and then gave Matthew an unsettling look.

"**Off with his head!" **

"Now, my dear Elizaveta, wouldn't it be much fairer if we called forwards a witness or two?" His knees buckled at the look she sent him. "Ah, just a thought."

She sighed, and falling into her chair with a scowl she flicked her hands at nobody in particular, rubbing away some non-existent strain at her temples with her dainty fingers.

"Very well- Call forwards the first witness."

The white rabbit trumpeted another fanfare, before shouting aloud, "The first witness; The March Hare!"

The blonde blinked, and as he had done so many times today; he pushed his glasses up his nose.

Apparently, the hare had seen everything, although Matthew could not recall seeing anything of the March Hare after the ridiculous tea party.

The hare was still sipping on a cup of tea, although he still blanched at the taste, and the queen was now leering over at him from her platform.

"And what did you see? Hmm..? What do you have to say about this?"

The hare swirled his finger around the edge of his cup, and without missing a beat he answered simply; "Nothing!"

"**Nothing?!**" The queen shrieked in absolute confusion.

The hare, obviously not used to being in her terrible presence, shouted back in an equally loud drone; "Nothing whatsoever!"

The king, seemingly missing the point of this, turned to the jury, which was shrouded in darkness compared to the rest of the court-room. "Very important! Jury, write that down!"

There was a succession of scribbles upon paper, and Matthew began to feel very, very intimidated at this point, even though he knew he hadn't done anything wrong.

"Next witness!" The queen shrieked.

"The Dormouse!" The mouse was sat down, obviously sleeping in his tea-pot, but as no-one was truly aware of his sharp disposition, the queen was quick to shout at him.

"Well..?"

Only snores met her ears.

"We haven't got the time for waiting. **Are you listening to me?**"

A gunshot rang clear through the air, and with a slight billow of smoke the mouse appeared, looking rather tired, holding a pistol in one paw. The queen almost fainted into the depths of her chair as she eyed the bullet that had splintered into the wood just above her head.

"S-Sorry for her majesty's... _Outburst_. But, what have you to say?"

The mouse tapped the pistol against the edge of the teapot, it chinking against the fine china as he seemed lost in thought.

"I was asleep. I don't even remember seeing this kid. So, if you don't want a bullet between your eyes, you won't wake me again." Almost everyone nodded at the mouse, although Matthew was rather flabbergasted at the fact that such a small creature could bring a whole room into silence.

He crawled into his pot, another one of the cards placing the top on it, and he cautiously carried the mouse away at full arms length; not wanting to be shot.

Once the mouse was safely across the room the king burst into speech again for no good reason._ "Amazing! _Possibly the most important bit of information we have come across!"

Matthew folded his arms.

"The Mad Hatter!" Matthew, rather thankful that he would have someone of his own species present in the court-room, felt the urge to run up to him and thank him, but when he moved but an inch the cards either side of him clanked their lances against each other.

The hatter nodded, inclining his hat towards Matthew as if he knew what he meant, and Matthew blushed.

The queen looked less than happy at this exchange of niceties.

"**Off with your**-" She unscrewed contorted features and sat herself back down, "**hat**. If you please."

The hatter gave an absent 'Hmm?' and realising what she had said, he did so, opting to twiddle the velvet top hat in his hands instead, his eyes flickering so much that you could of assumed that he was the one being persecuted.

"And where were you, when this terrible offence against the crown was committed?" The queen asked, although it was more of a vicious snarl than a question.

The hatter gave another confused 'Hmm?' but he then coughed and straightened his jacket with a free hand, then twirling his hat with both hands once again.

"I was home, embroidering and drinking tea." He said with a slight change of pitch, and he coughed again. "Today is my un-birthday, you know..."

One of the jury suddenly piped up from the shadows, "Today is her majesty's un-birthday too!"

The hatter's eyes suddenly grabbed a hold of some form of life, and they glittered as he looked at her properly.

"It is?"

The hatter and now present hare cried out in sheer glee at the thought, both jumping up and down as they held hands and smiled like small children.

"It is?" The jury then asked, everyone then seemingly following this phrase until almost everyone had uttered it.

As Matthew clasped his hands over his ears with a jolt of awareness at the sudden calamity, everyone burst into song around him.

_"__A very merry un-birthday!"_

_"To me?"_

_"To you!"_

"Oh! Not again!" The Canadian shut his eyes and tried to block out the sound without much avail, as the hatter and hare danced around the queen's podium and everyone continued to sing with so much cheer in their voices you wouldn't of thought they were on jury duty at all.

_"__A very merry un-birthday!"_

_"For me?"_

_"For you!" _

The hatter searched around in his hat, exclaiming when he found what he was looking for; and as the queen stared wide eyed at the cake laid before her, he seemed to pour out candles endlessly, Matthew surprised that she hadn't screamed out for him being so blatantly rude. She instead clapped her hands together and smiled at them all.

_"__Now blow the candles out, my queen, and make your wish come true!" _

She did so with so much force that it was amazing that she could hold so much air in her lungs, but with the amount of shouting she did it was barely a surprise. The whole room cheered, and with a round of clapping they finished their song.

_"__A very merry un-birthday, to you!" _

The hatter suddenly noticed something, just above the queen's head, and he grinned. "Oi! Chess!"

The queen frowned at the lack of attention she was now receiving as the Englishman pointed to a spot above her head, where her bejeweled crown had been replaced with a familiar smile.

"Where?" She scowled, and the cat laughed as she looked around aimlessly.

"There he is!"

She frowned again, and she turned to the Canadian, blaming him as he was the first person she had laid her eyes on.

"You little troublemaker! Stop this now!"

"But! The Cheshire cat..."

She glared.

"___Your m-majesty._ He's on your head!" He squeaked and pointed to his own head in a way of explaining what she probably didn't hear.

"Cat?"


	15. Home Sweet Home

**screeches i am done thanks i have covered up some of my silly mistakes and stuff so yes thank you**

* * *

The mouse, once sound asleep and less dangerous, jumped from his pot with a clatter of fine china.

"Cat! Cat? Cat cat cat cat!"

The mouse ran everywhere, like butter through the fingers of those who tried to catch him. This way and that, darting all around the courtroom.

The hatter and the hare ran across every surface, and sometimes some unlucky person's fingers as they tried to catch up with him.

"Catch him! Catch him! Go for it, Iggy!"

The hatter reached out, and jumping from a terrible height, he managed to catch the wriggling and writhing mouse in his hands.

He fell straight onto his back, and with an 'Oof!' he held it up for Alfred to get at, wheezing out his words as the queen watched on in utter disgust.

"The jam! The jam!"

The white rabbit, as he had done so at their tea-party, had the jam in his hands, waiting for someone to give it to.

Considering that last time his watch had fallen victim to the sticky substance, he quickly threw it in the direction of the March hare, but somehow, he missed, and with a terrible ___splat_ the jam instead was thrown all over the queen.

_She looked fit to burst_.

She fought back the red tint of anger that was grazed across her cheeks, and she wiped the jam from her eyes with her bejewelled fingers, then making a noise with her throat that signalled for a cloth: with which she daintily wiped the substance from her face.

In this time the pot of jam was thrown haphazardly from the rabbit, to the hare, to the hatter, to... _Oh. _

_Now he was sure he wouldn't get home_.

"**Someone's head is going to roll for this...**" Her tone was shrill, and she eyed the pot in Matthew's hand with a menacing smile.

The Canadian put the jar on the nearest surface, which was the wood of the plinth he was stood at, and he tucked his hands into his pockets. His hands closed around something unfamiliar, until Matthew suddenly remembered. "The mushroom!" He picked them out and weighed them in his hands, as he had done when the caterpillar had told him about the mushroom.

_One side will make you grow taller, and the other side will make you grow shorter._

Without another thought, he quickly shoved one piece into his mouth.

The queen was glowering, and about to hit another shrill note when the Canadian shot up so tall that he had to crane his neck to look at them all, his arms on either wall. The cards started to jab at his legs with their lances, and he folded his arms with a tut.

"I'm not scared of you. You're all just a pack of cards." He blew at them, and as they all scattered around the room Matthew found that he had validated his point.

"I'm sorry, my boy," The king began, setting down a large tome with a wearing spine on the table before him. He flicked through the pages, and he set his finger down upon one sentence, looking up at Matthew with a gulp. "Rule forty-two: all persons more than a mile high must leave the court immediately."

The blonde boy folded his arms with a huff; he was finally getting noticed, and he wasn't going to let the moment pass in a blur.

"I'm not a mile high. And I'm not leaving."

The queen laced her fingers together, and she set her head upon them with a malicious smirk. "Too bad. Rule forty-two, you know."

Matthew bent forwards, placing his hands either side of the queen's box, and he sneered in a tone he didn't know he was capable of.

"And as for_** you**, ____your majesty!" _

___Bop. Down three feet._

"**Your majesty _indeed!_"**

___Bop. Another three shorter._

"**Why, you're not a queen,**"

Her eyes lit up, and she smirked at him.

"**But just an evil,**"

___An even wider grin._

"**No good,**"

___Shorter still._

"**Bad tempered old ty- **___tyrant...__" _

___Back to his usual size._

The queen smirked, and she leant over her box to leer down upon him. "Hmm... And uh, _w__hat_ were you saying, ___dear boy__?" _

Matthew stumbled over his syllables and his letters, and he only came out with jumbled mutters. The same gaudy stripes of gold wound themselves into existence, and a large grin appeared with crimson additions to the gold.

The cheshire cat grinned. "Well, he simply said that you're an evil, no good, bad tempered old tyrant, ___hahahaha!__" _

The queen's mood had switched again, and she glared at everyone and anyone who dared to look back at her, but her eyes then met with Matthew, and bored straight through the cat; as if she still couldn't see it. It disappeared once again, the stripes unwinding before dissipating, and the queen was convulsing, shaking, red with anger.

"**Off with his head!**" The scream rang clear through the courtroom, and it almost knocked everyone off of their feet.

The cards suddenly erupted into cheers and battle cries, and they jumped for the Canadian.

Matthew, not one to disobey habit pushed his glasses up, and ran as fast as his bruised, spindly legs could carry him.

Roderich pointed to the young boy, running and pushing his way through the cards, and shouted with all of his might, "You heard what the queen said; **Off with his head!**"

Romulus joined the fray, and he puffed his cheeks up, the already clattering din now alight with fanfares too.

Out of the room he clattered, and he continued to run through the next corridor and the next, until he was back in the maze with the painted rosebushes. He cut through the hedges, the stabbing pain coming back in his knee, and fighting back tears that seemed to overwhelm him from everything that had happened, he continued to career around every corner that was thrown at him.

He soon came to the middle of nowhere, where a number of paths seemed to converge in the spot he was standing.

People sped out and past these openings, cards, Romulus, the king, the queen, even the Mad Hatter and the March Hare.

Matthew bit back another whimper and he ran straight through the lot of them, pushing with weak arms and criss-crossing this way and that until he had made it out of the maze.

Without looking he ran through, then over, at least twenty cards, and the queen had done so on the other side, causing a domino effect to flick him into the air. His arms windmilled, and he had his fall broken by a slope of the playing cards. But the moment he came to his feet he was pushed into a run by a pelican with a very, very long beak.

"_Forward, backward, inward, outward, here we go again!  
No one ever looses and no one can ever win."_

The Canadian looked around him, and sure enough he was back to the same shore he had come across when he had first seen the seagull, the queen just behind him, followed by a whole two suits of cards that had somehow gotten tangled up in this caucus race too.

_"Backward, forward, outward, inward, bottom to the top,  
there's never a beginning and can never be a stop..." _

Seeing a chance at a veranda that went over the next hill and the next, Matthew jumped over the two Vargas twins, and he glanced behind him only to see the queen in a blind rage; frying pan tight in her grip.

"**Off! Off!****Off with his head!**"

The rocks that came up he jumped over, and the slimy mounds suddenly became teapots, and he was running along a cloth covered table, the teapots whistling the same tune that the seagull was humming from the distance.

"Just a moment!"

Matthew almost fell as two dead weights latched onto his arms, and as he felt himself being dragged along the table he looked to see the Englishman and the March hare; giddy as two children.

"You can't bloody well leave a tea party without having a cup of tea, you know!"

The queen was fast approaching, and the boy pulled himself from their grasp.

"But I can't stop now!"

He realised that they were helping him traverse a teaspoon, and as he fell into the depths of the cup he heard the hare giggle, "Oh! But we insist you join us _in_ a cup of tea! Ha!"

Trying his best, breath short, he swam to the surface of the tea, which was no longer in a cup, but a flowing sea of some sort. The waves crashed, rolled and rocked Matthew about, and he coughed and spluttered as he tried to keep on the surface.

_"____**Off..! **__**With his head**__!" _

The shrill cry came from behind him, but from the slight trouble he had hearing her properly, he knew he had at least a minute or so before she caught up.

He coughed, and bringing his arms out of the water he found them clinging onto a mushroom, the alabaster caterpillar from earlier still studying his katana.

"Oh! Absalom-san! What will I do?"

The caterpillar tore his gaze from his blade, and with a flicker of it causing Matthew to wrench his eyes shut and let go of the mushroom, he called to him, "Who, are you?"

The spiraling, dizzy patterns that burnt before his eyes enveloped him in their arms, and he found himself on his feet, completely dry, and he ran for all he was worth through the patterns, not stopping for a moment.

"There he goes! Don't let him get away! Off with his head!"

Matthew came to the still snoring doorknob, and as he twisted its nose, it let out an almighty cry.

"Aii-Yah! Oh! Sorry! I'm still locked, aru!" It chortled, and Matthew tugged and tugged at it as the rabble came closer and closer still.

With the pain that came from his leg and the terrible state of tiredness that came along with it, he could only wheeze out his words.

"B-But the Queen! I simply m-must get out!"

The doorknob smiled at him, and the Canadian was about to shout at it for acting so casual and idle, before it smiled at him.

"But, you're already out, aru."

"Eh?"

"See for yourself..." It opened its mouth, wide enough for Matthew to look out of, and his azuline eyes became wide as he saw himself sleeping against a tree- Exactly where he had begun.

"But- That's me! I'm back home!"

His smile was quickly ripped from his face though, as a shrill voice sounded, and the clack of shoes met with the non-existent floor.

"Don't let him get away! Off with his head!"

She was approaching dangerously fast, and forgetting that the doorknob had a tendency to be loud and the fact that it could feel everything, he began to rattle and shake the knob with slipping hands, his heart in his mouth.

"Matthew, wake up! Please wake up, Matthew! Matthew! Please wake up, Matthew! Matthew! Matthew-"

* * *

"Matthew! Wake up! Wake-"

His eyes opened, although a little bleary, and he blinked up to gaze into his father's face.

"Oh! Matthew! You scared me. You fell out of that tree, you see, and I was afraid you wouldn't wake up." His large hands scooped the boy into his arms, and he kissed his forehead gently as Matthew kept still, numb from the shock. "I rang Arthur, I was that worried."

Matthew giggled at the resident panic in his voice.

"I'm fine, papa."

Francis made a face. "That is what you always say."

Matthew in Wonderland, how do you get to Wonderland?  
Over the hill or under land, or just behind the tree?  
Matthew in Wonderland, where is the path to Wonderland?  
Over the hill or here or there, I wonder where.


End file.
